


The Scars That Bleed

by Aelwyn



Series: The Albion Chronicles [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Initially Completed on Wattpad on May 7th 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 06:48:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 31,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23347198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aelwyn/pseuds/Aelwyn
Summary: SEQUEL TO TIME OF THE CHANGELINGFive Years after the Battle of Camlann, Arthur comes back to a much-changed Camelot. With Merlin as advisor and King of the Druids and the Knights keeping a firm hold on the training of the guard, the kingdom has prospered with Guinevere on the throne.But tension is brewing among the other kingdoms, and fear threatens to destroy the peace which had been achieved through blood and sacrifice. As the two sides come to blows and distrust thickens, the question must be asked: can magic survive side by side with the normal world?Friendships will be tested, and loyalties divided. Only by trust can the conflict be resolved, but has Arthur come back too late? Long-mended scars are beginning to bleed, and Albion's darkest hour is upon her.
Series: The Albion Chronicles [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1679218
Kudos: 9





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: If you are coming to this story without reading my other novels, bear in mind this is a sequel pertaining directly to its predecessor. I strongly recommend first reading The Time of the Changeling before staring this one. As with the first, this is a Merlin AU. Places and events from the show have been altered to suit my story. Happy reading!

The sky was a dark, tarnished gray. Lightning periodically lit up the underside of the blanketed clouds with a frightening white-blue light to the clash of roaring thunder. The rain poured down in bucketfuls with seemingly no end in sight; visibility was as poor as in dense fog. The moon was completely obscured by the storm, and the only light came from small bright blue sparks dancing hecticly through the air. They were buzzing around a small boat resting on a short strip of sandy beach; the lake in which their island rested was thrown into a tumultuous display of thrashing gray waves. A procession of five tall, slight, blue figures was coming slowly to the boat. Four supported a plank, the fifth leading. They turned red eyes to the sparks, antenna waving slightly and dragonfly wings fluttering every once in a while to shake the rain off of them. One of the sparks began pulsating, growing larger until another of the faerie were standing by the water's edge. He smiled, revealing jagged and crooked teeth as he pointed with a taloned finger at the plank. 

"He sleeps?"

"The healing process was long and complicated," the leader of the procession explained. "Yes, he sleeps. He is ready to return to the land of the living."

"And we cannot be certain of the time?"

"It is impossible to tell. The time of our world and theirs is... Complicated. But it cannot have been many moons since he last walked the land of the mortal."

"Good." The plank was lowered into the boat, the sparks dancing madly above the sleeping man. The faerie who had materialized leaned down, his breath stirring the man's hair. "Remember this favor the Sidhe have done for you, human." Straightening, he motioned to the sparks. "Set the boat on its course to the mainland. Accompany it only as far as the end of our realm." The smaller faerie whizzed around the boat in a rapid circle, and with a jerk it departed from the clinging, soaked sand and began its journey across the heaving water. The faerie left it about halfway across, returning to their island. The boat continued on, but without escort it was soon threatened by the tossing waves. It rode the crests and sped violently into the dips, overturning a good ways from the mainland shore and throwing its passenger into the icy drink as well.


	2. Haven

Arthur shot to the surface, gasping in shock. Waves came rolling over his head and filled his mouth with ice-cold water as rain beat down on his already sodden head. The first thing he thought about was the fact that he wasn't fighting nearly hard enough to tread water, and realized that his chain mail and heavier armor plates were gone. He wasn't even wearing his gloves. But there was a familiar weight about his waist, which meant his sword was still in its sheath. The second thing he thought about was why he was in the middle of a great body of water in the middle of a thunderstorm. And the third was how he got back to muddy land. Arthur cast about wildly, searching with a mounting yet suppressed panic. Finally, amidst a small letdown in the deluge, he spotted the faint outline of trees and began swimming toward it. Between the unpredictable upheaval of the water and an overall feeling of weakness, it was a hard-fought battle. When he finally felt his fingers brush long, grassy stems, he grasped them like a lifeline and refused to let go until he had heaved himself onto a very slippery bank. Arthur collapsed there, panting and shivering. He was too tired to find shelter underneath the trees. 

The morning was warm, and he awoke to the feeling of sunshine beating down on his face. Aside from an overall sogginess to the ground, there was no trace of the downpour from the night before. Something was prodding into his stomach. Groaning, Arthur rolled onto his side and propped himself up on his right elbow to see what it was and found it was the hilt of his sword. Getting to his feet was another matter. He managed to find his balance by bracing on his hands and knees, slowly working his way up to standing on his feet alone. The world spun, and he fought nausea. It suddenly occurred to him that there wasn't anything to throw up; his stomach, while sufficiently warned away from food, was growling nonetheless. His throat was dry as carving dust. He flexed his muscles, testing their strength. He winced as his left shoulder protested with a dull ache. The muscles in it were knotted. 

"Guess I'll have to fix that," he rasped. Aside from a deer eyeing him curiously, he was entirely alone. Arthur caught his reflection in the now still surface of a large lake- no the Lake of _Avalon_ \- and grimaced. He was covered from head to foot in mud, but wasn't keen on wading back in for a wash. He'd almost drowned in that water. _Avalon_. The battle of Camlann raced back to him. 

"I suppose the faeries were able to heal me." The garments he had on weren't his. They were a plain, dull brown covered in tan dried mud. His shirt and pants were coarse, his belt dried and flaking leather. He wasn't even wearing boots. Out of a muddy face peered two bright blue eyes, the only part of him he felt as recognizable. His tawny blonde hair was shaggy and sticking up all over the place, glued to his forehead at odd angles and streaked with grime. He was also sporting a good amount of stubble, moving past the neat "growing a beard" phase and into gross negligence. _Emphasis on gross_. Arthur sighed, heading into the trees. He had a good idea of where he was, and set out in the direction of Camelot. At one point, near mid-afternoon, he happened upon a well-worn road. _It's a main path_. _Good._ Arthur continued down it, thankful for the packed earth. It had less gravel and thorns than the woodland brush, and therefore was much kinder on his feet. 

"Oi! You there! Are you lost, mate?" Arthur stopped, his body praising his leniency. He knew he wouldn't be able to force it any farther for the day once he had. 

"No," he replied tiredly. "But I could use some food and water, and a place to sleep for the night. I've been traveling for days without rest." At least, it felt like it. The farmer looked him up and down, face softening from suspicion into kindness. 

"Even through the storm?"

"No place to go," Arthur explained with a wide sweeping of his arms toward the way he had come and toward where he wished to end up. "Just the road. I lost my supplies somehow. Including my boots." Also true; his armor had mysteriously vanished. The Pendragon suspected the Sidhe had removed it to heal him, but he had no recollection of anything of the sort ever happening. All that remained of the wound Mordred had given him was a clean and narrow scar. 

"You can rest up here for the night," the man said at last. "Might not be a castle, but there's stew and clean hay in the barn. Could even spare a blanket," he added mischievously. "My old gal's got the fire going."

"Thank you," Arthur said in a weak voice. He somehow managed to stumble to the gate, collapsing partway to the ground before the old man- surprisingly strong for his age- ducked under his arm and half carried, half dragged him into the small hut. There was a tiny gasp of surprise from an elder woman, still beautiful. She was tiny and frail with gleaming silver hair, contrasting oddly with her burly and padded husband. But she cleared a place at their table and pulled out the bench for him, taking a bowl and ladling a fair amount of rich, thick rabbit stew into it. She poured water from a pitcher into a wooden cup and set it next to him. Her husband was already tucking into his own dinner, and she settled in by his side. Arthur drained the water and poured himself another glass before taking a bite of the meal. It was warm and flooded his body with its heat, and the flavor wasn't bad either. It was actually better than some of the things he'd eaten at the castle. The couple graciously waited for him to down a few bites before asking him anything.

"So how'd you get out here all on your own?" The man asked. He yelped as his wife prodded him sharply in the ribs with her bony elbow. "Sorry, that was clumsy of me. Name's Teagis. This is my wife, Zira."

"I'm A- Bradley," Arthur amended clumsily. No matter the sense of security he felt, he wouldn't risk them knowing his true name in case Morgana's men were more loyal to her than he'd thought. They might be looking for him. And that put these kind peoples' _and_ his own life at stake. "And I really can't thank you enough."

"We're always willing to help out a knight," Zira commented, making Arthur drop his spoon into the bowl. Annoyed, he began to fish for it while she added, "your sword gives you away. The usual riffraff we see on this road don't carry anything as well-crafted as that."

"Now Zira, can't you see he's skittish about his status? He went to a lot of trouble to wear shoddy clothing-"

"No, that's fine," Arthur cut in. He had retrieved his spoon and was catching up the last chunks of potato when Zira ladled more in. "And thank you. Yes, I'm a knight. But not a very good one it seems." He paused, phrasing his next words carefully. "I was injured in battle and woke up in the care of some very skilled healers." True, but vague. "I'm not even sure what kingdom this is." 

"Mercia," Teagis replied. "On the borderlands of Elmet."

"How far would it be from Camelot?" Arthur asked before realizing he'd slipped. 

"A Camelot knight, eh? Though I haven't heard of any battles concerning them for a while. Camlann, I think, was the last. That the one you're referring to?"

"Yes," Arthur replied uneasily. "I was gravely wounded. This was the first opportunity for me to return to Camelot."

"Should be 'bout... Oh, three days' journey on foot. Right up to the castle, that is. I assume that's where you're goin'." 

"It is." Teagis was eyeing him curiously. "What?"

"Well, it's nothin' really, but Camlann happened, oh... Five years ago?" Arthur was grateful that he hadn't had anything in his mouth at that moment, because he was certain he would have choked on it. He did his best to mask his shock and settled for saying absently,

"Has it really been that long? I've had trouble remembering things since it all happened." The elderly couple regarded him with pitying looks but let the subject drop as if it were a poisonous snake. 

"Do you have family in Camelot?" 

"My wife. A few friends. But no siblings or parents anymore, I'm afraid." Arthur finished off the second bowl of stew and struggled to remain awake. He was now comfortably full and warm, and the two were a deadly combination for drowsiness. It must have shown, because Zira remarked kindly,

"Teagis, would you take our guest to the barn? I'll fetch a spare blanket."

"Of course. All right, Sir Bradley, it ain't the royal palace but it'll be dry."

"I really can't thank you enough," Arthur mumbled as he rose on exhausted legs and shuffled clumsily after the old man. The hay certainly wasn't a proper bed, but there was enough of it to be soft, and it was clean. After all he'd been through in the past few hours, it was better than most anything that could have come along of better opportunity in his mind. 


	3. Home

Warm rays of sunlight were filtering in through a few chinks in the roof of the barn, like bright pinpricks of summer. Arthur awoke to the smell of smoke- most likely coming from the house's chimney- and the sound of sizzling eggs. He wiped the sleep out of his eyes as best he could and stretched stiff muscles which ached vehemently in protest. Zira turned away from the fireplace and gestured to a seat with a smile as he walked in. 

"A very good morning, Sir Bradley. Don't bother looking for Teagis; he's already out in the fields. After breakfast we'll see about getting you cleaned up. A wash, perhaps. And I've already got a pair of old boots that you can use." Arthur opened his mouth to thank this generous woman yet again for her kindness when she shoved a piece of warm bread into it. "Now sit, and never mind about thanking me. You'll have plenty of time for that later." Camelot's King flashed her a tremendously grateful glance as he bit into the food, closing his eyes with pleasure when he washed it down with a cold glass of fresh, thick cream. When he'd swallowed he asked, 

"You and your husband manage the entire farm on your own?" He hadn't noticed how expansive it was before. 

"Oh, heavens no. We have three sons and _their_ sons who work off of it too." There was a glimmer of pride in her voice. "Been in the family for six generations. We share everything. John cares for the livestock, Korin the south fields, and Marhes, he has the rivers and woods for hunting. Teagis and I tend to the northern orchards, mostly." 

"Yet you don't sell to the nearby towns?"

"Of course not, although they're allowed to buy from us whenever they like. We trade for clothing and medicines, things we can't get for ourselves."

"That sounds like a good deal."

"Oh, it is. It is." There was a long period of silence as Arthur dug into his eggs, chasing the yellow goo around with the bread while Zira absentmindedly looked out the window, drying a clay bowl. He came abruptly to his feet, startled, when there was loud crash as it shattered on the stone floor. 

"Don't worry about it," Zira muttered in an annoyed way, most likely exasperated with herself. She stretched her hand out over the sharp fragments, muttered _"bétan,"_ and watched as it came back together into one solid piece as if of its own accord. She suddenly seemed to remember that Arthur was present, and grasped the bowl quickly in a self-conscious manner. But not before he had seen the Druidic Triskelion tattooed on the inside of her right wrist. 

"I hope that was alright with you," Zira stuttered.

"It's fine," Arthur remarked casually, settling back in to his breakfast. "I have a rather clumsy friend who used to use that particular word quite often. "Repair," right?" He chewed thoughtfully on his bread whilst thinking of the many times Merlin had tripped and broken something, his mouth curling into a nostalgic smile. Zira's cheeks flushed as she pulled a strand of silver hair back behind her ear, doing a poor job of showing how relieved she was. That suddenly struck Arthur as odd.

"What's to worry about, anyway? Aren't all the kingdoms still allowing magic? I thought they and the Druids were at peace." 

"Oh, not for some months, Sir Bradley. Things have been... Tense lately. No one's outright said they don't want our kind around, but- well, that's the _feeling_ they give, you know." Arthur frowned, processing this unexpected bit of information. 

"What about Me- Emrys?" Arthur amended clumsily. No matter how hard he tried, he could never think of Merlin by that name. Neither could Merlin, now that he thought about it. "What's he doing about it?"

"He's been a bit distant recently. As advisor to Camelot's queen, he's been quite busy with the raids I'm guessing."

"Raids?"

"Nasty business, started up just a week or two ago on Camelot's southern border, I think. Bands of robbers going from town to town, ransacking, pillaging, burning- and many other things of an unsavory nature, or I'm a goblin. And, sadly, since the king passed five years ago the other monarchs just don't seem to think he's a match for them. Constantly reminding them of who's got the magic and who _doesn't_." 

"I see." But Arthur didn't really see at all, though he refrained from saying so. If he let on that he knew so little about the situation she might become suspicious of his story. After all, only an idiot or someone who recently came back from the dead wouldn't know something like that. _Or a hermit. Awfully reclusive, those people._ Arthur finished his breakfast quickly and followed Zira's instructions to the river, taking with him a shaving knife and a mirror which she had been kind enough to find. Once under the trees he undressed and soaked the clothing thoroughly in the strong current, watching the mud literally wash out until the garments were mostly clean. All they required afterward was some rough persuasion for the more stubborn clots of dirt. He then slid into the water, gasping at the cold and strength of the rapids. He took a deep breath and plunged his head underneath the surface, running his fingers furiously through his hair and over his face before bursting into the air again. Arthur hung the damp clothes on some tree branches after wringing out any excess water and placed the mirror in the fork of a low branch, taking the knife and shaving his stubble away before tending more carefully to his hair. When it looked how he was accustomed to it looking he checked the linen and found that it was mostly dry. He could live with that. 

Arthur attended with the utmost amount of care to the cleaning of his sword. It wasn't just his weapon, but one of a kind and one of the most important gifts he'd ever received. He had even named it Excalibur, for swords forged in dragons' breath were usually named something noble. Or so he'd been told by Sir Geoffrey of Monmouth. 

"Take me up," he read on one side, flipping it onto the other. "Cast me away." He'd said the words so many times it didn't matter that he couldn't read the runes. He knew what they said by heart. Arthur dug his bare toes into the thick green grass and sighed, lifting his face and pointing it into the wind. He stayed that way for a long time, just enjoying feeling alive. 

There was a sudden sharp, clanging noise of metal on metal which made him start. He slipped the boots on over his feet, decided they weren't too small or large, slipped his belt on with his sword sheath, grabbed his sword, and went racing in the direction of the disturbance. There was a man in his early thirties with a remarkable resemblance to Teagis defending himself from the typical band of ragged thieves that one could expect to be lurking in the woods, and without hesitation the blonde leaped directly into the fray and placed himself between the man and the scoundrels. 

"I'm really not in the mood today," he warned.

"Too bad," the leader snapped. He lunged forward clumsily, and Arthur executed a neat sidestep leg slash combo without really thinking about it. Despite everything he'd been through, his body still hadn't forgotten the drills. The man fell face first on the ground whimpering, and the next two the blonde barreled through started screaming like girls. Obviously they weren't used to their victims fighting back. The cowards. Arthur's ankle twisted painfully in a rabbit hole, but he gritted his teeth and dodged a particularly vicious swing from one of the more adept fighters to regain his footing. The farmer he had been defending stepped in between them and swung his sword for all he was worth, effectively using the flat side of the blade as a club and clapping the ruffian upside the head with it so that Arthur could slide to the side and direct a well-aimed kick into his ribs. The fight was over almost as quickly as it had started, and Arthur controlled his breathing to resume a normal pattern and waited for the adrenaline to ebb away.

"I could have handled that," the farmer snapped. He paused when he received an incredulous look from the blonde, reconsidered what he had said, and amended, "but thank you. I'm Korin." He winced and pulled back the torn cloth of his jacket to reveal a shallow gash on his left arm. "Blast it all." 

"I'm Bradley," Arthur introduced with his alias. "Your parents were kind enough to give me shelter last night. Allow me to repay them in some way by wrapping that for you." Korin nodded, holding out his arm for the knight to get at. Arthur took the hem of his shirt and ripped a piece off, tying it securely around the cut after carefully wiping away any potential dirt. "I'd get that seen to properly though; I was heading back to your parents' house to say goodbye before continuing on my journey."

"Then I'll accompany you." Arthur took the reins of the man's horse and led it and the cart it was pulling after him, tying the animal to the fence before following him into the farmhouse. Zira let out a tiny gasp and then made a tutting noise, inspecting her son's wound and grunting in minor approval. 

"Not a bad wrap for an amateur," she conceded before muttering something in Old Religion and placing her hands on the gash. Korin hissed, then sighed in relief. 

"Thank you, mother."

"I see you've met Sir Bradley, then."

""Sir?" A knight?" He asked, regarding Arthur curiously. 

"A Camelot knight." Zira took a good moment to look him up and down before nodding in satisfaction. "What did I tell you? A good wash and a shave, and you're good as new." 

"It did wonders," Arthur agreed as he laid the mirror and shaving knife on the table. He'd taken the time to collect them on the way back to the cottage. "I should be heading on my way if I want to make the border by sunset. Thank you for everything you've done. If I were to live one hundred lifetimes I wouldn't ever be able to repay you for your kindness and generosity."

"Oh for goodness' sake, it's the least I could do after the time you've had."

"I don't-"

"Anyone can tell that you were nearly drowned when Teagis found you last night, and then some rough treatment beforehand. Nobody deserves that kind of beating." Zira gave him a knowing look. "Even prisoners are still men, and deserve a certain level of respect as such." Arthur's heart had leapt into his throat and was slowly beginning to calm as she was speaking. she hadn't guessed who he really was, or what had actually happened; she had even given him a perfect alibi if he ran across anyone else before reaching Camelot. Trapped as a prisoner was better than memory loss any day. 

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Arthur was hitching a bag of provisions over his shoulder when Teagis came in, and interrupted his argument with Zira over accepting them to thank the man again for bringing him in out of the cold and wet. 

"T'wasn't a problem," the old man muttered sheepishly. "T'wasn't a problem at all." 

"Well, thanks again anyway," the blonde reinforced pointedly. "It isn't many people will take in someone who looked like I did." 

"Well that's just a crying shame," Teagis retorted gruffly. 

"Indeed."

He had taken the shortest route possible through the forest, and had been able to camp within Camelot's borders that night. Even though Arthur was still a good few days' journey out from the city, he felt at peace. This was his kingdom, and he was headed home. 

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

"Excuse me!" Arthur blinked open heavy eyes and rubbed the sleep out of them as a man called from the top of the ridge. He sat up in the dell where he had camped the previous night, trying to get a good look at the man but unable to because of the dense undergrowth. Arthur, in return, was just as well hidden from him. "Did I say you could go on ahead?" 

"No, I assumed." So there were two, possibly more. There was something achingly familiar about the voices...

" 'ey, Gwaine! Get your head out of the clouds. I almost rammed into you." 

"There's something in the dell." Gwaine's voice floated along on the brisk morning air like a beautiful memory only just remembered, and Arthur let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. His heart suddenly ached with joy; it had been strangely hollow until now. He was among friends. There was a rustling noise as Gwaine slid down the ridge and skidded to a halt a few feet in front of Arthur, who had quickly risen to his feet. The knight's eyes widened in shock and his mouth hung open while the king smiled like he had never smiled before. 

"What is it?" _Percival._

_"Sire?"_ Gwaine choked the word out in a strangled whisper, and Arthur put a reassuring hand on the man's shoulder. He stared at it as if he hadn't been certain that he was real or a ghost. 

"Yeah Gwaine, it's really me." 

"Who's that? Who're you talking to?" Elyan called. There was a series of thuds as the remaining knights dismounted from their horses, and then a loud rustle as they skidded down the embankment. Lancelot- who had been first- froze right at the bottom, and Leon crashed right into him. They all went sprawling in a heap, and Arthur left the for once speechless Gwaine to help a few of them to their feet. 

"-And here I am." The knights were silent for a few moments after Arthur had explained all that had happened to him- at least as far as he could tell. Finally Leon spoke.

"Good to have you back, sire." 

"Good to be back, Leon. Let's go home." Arthur sat behind Lancelot on his horse as they sped off, feeling awkward at having to grab him about the waist whenever they hit a turn or jump. 

"Gwen will be overjoyed to see you," Lancelot said quietly. Arthur smiled. It was his own way of saying that Guinevere hadn't remarried since he'd died.

"I appreciate that, Lancelot." It was the knight's turn to smile. They had a full day of riding before the creamy ramparts Camelot's walls were seen through the trees, and the crimson banners with gold dragon snapping back and forth in the wind seemed to be beckoning to them. The sun had almost set when they galloped into the courtyard of the castle, and as stable hands rushed forth to care for the horses Arthur and the Knights walked directly into the throne room. The last few bleeding rays glinted on the polished surface of the round table as the court which had been in session turned to see that their king had come home.


	4. Herald

The assembly had fallen into an uproar of confused murmurings and shocked stares, which Arthur had minded far more than he thought he would. Geoffrey of Monmouth had left for his library as soon as it had been established that he really was Arthur, alive and well. He'd been muttering something about old prophecies. Guinevere had shoved her way through the throng of knights and nobles to throw her arms about his neck and kiss him long and passionately while Leon, Gwaine, Lancelot, Percival, and Elyan had shielded him from being smothered by only allowing a certain number of people to filter last him as they left the chamber. Gaius appeared as if out of nowhere as soon as everyone else had gone and gave him a good looking-over, muttering odd phrases under his breath from time to time as he did so. 

"There were some new faces I hadn't seen before," Arthur remarked after a while. He began to fidget; he couldn't help it. 

"We've got some new knights," Leon explained as he reclined in one of the chairs. "Mostly Druids, a few noblemen. Quite a lot of farmers from the outlying villages since the raids began."

"Not to become knights though," Percival amended as he leaned against a column. "They want the training to protect their villages."

"Well we can't blame them for that," Arthur commented, shifting in his seat.

"Stop squirming," Gaius chided. 

"Exactly how much longer is this going to take?" The blonde questioned irritatedly. 

"As long as it takes until I'm quite certain you're actually the king." Arthur groaned and fidgeted again. Gwaine snickered. They all glanced uneasily toward the window as a great boom of thunder rattled the colored panes, and the sudden downpour could be heard beating against the stone. 

"It's really coming down," Elyan remarked, drawing his red cloak more tightly about his shoulders as if warding off the rain. 

"You should've been out in it three days ago," Arthur said at a weak attempt at a joke. "I nearly drowned out there, soaked to the bone." 

"That bad?" 

"Yeah. It was a _lake_ out there," Gwaine quipped. Everyone groaned. 

"That was terrible," Percival informed him.

"Was not."

"Was too." Leon backed him up while Lancelot slowly lowered his head to the table and shoved it into the crook of his arm.

"Somebody save me from these idiots," he murmured. This spouted off yet another pointless argument, which was interrupted briefly by Gaius shouting for quiet before resuming again as a whisper that crescendoed back to yelling. The lightning crashed outside and the thunder boomed, but they ignored it. Everyone froze when a loud bang echoed throughout the room, and they turned to the door to see Merlin looking the worse for wear and dripping wet standing in the entryway. The bang had been him throwing open the door with his left arm, which seemed braced against it as he surveyed the room. His dark blue eyes fixed intensely on Arthur, but there was no surprise in them. Only a sort of tired joy that defied complete analysis. He broke the silence with a true, genuine Merlin smile.

"Hey, dollophead," he said quietly. 

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Everyone else had gone to give them privacy. Arthur paced up and down in front of the round table while Merlin stood in a puddle of water as he wrung out his clothes. He finally gave up.

" _Ádrúge,"_ he sighed. The water evaporated off of his garments and even off the floor, and he went to sit in one of the council chairs. Arthur gave an exasperated half-smile and finally sat next to his old friend. 

"How's Camelot?" He asked stiffly.

"Camelot's fine," Merlin replied just as stiffly. "How's the outlying border?"

"Border's fine."

"Good."

"Good." There was an awkward silence, and they avoided eye contact. Finally they turned to each other, broke into wide grins, and both burst out laughing.

"Look at us," Arthur gasped. "This is ridiculous."

"Yeah," Merlin wheezed as he slid out of his chair and onto the floor in a heap. "People would think we were complete strangers." Arthur slapped his hand onto his head and began ruffling the dark hair enthusiastically while Merlin leaned against his legs, pretending to make feeble attempts at breaking away even though they both knew that he was enjoying it. They were just two friends again, rough housing and throwing their cares to the four winds for one brief moment of childlike bliss. It ended as quickly as it had begun when the doors to the council chamber flew open and a messenger came sliding in. His wet boots skidded over the slick stone and he began to pinwheel forward, when suddenly he froze in midair with his arms outstretched. Both the messenger and the king looked to Merlin, who was still sitting on the floor. He had put his hand out to catch the unfortunate man without moving a muscle.

"Speak, my friend," he said invitingly. It was less a command than a cordial suggestion. "You've obviously got something important to say." The messenger, no more than a boy of fourteen or fifteen, nodded and knelt whilst presenting a rolled up piece of parchment. It was tied with sapphire ribbon and sealed with the crest of an unknown house.

"What kingdom do you send this message from?" Arthur asked as he took the proffered document and opened it. "And please, stand." The boy slowly got to his feet with a look of utter bewilderment on his face as Arthur paced back and forth as he read the letter. 

"I- I hail from no kingdom, milord," the messenger said awkwardly. "I was sent by the Seers." Merlin's head snapped up and his gaze was filled with such intensity that the boy shrank away slightly and seemed to wilt.

"What business do the Seers have with Camelot?" He asked quietly. Arthur paused in his reading to study his friend. There was an underlying dread in his very stance, which the king suddenly realized was well-toned and just the slightest bit taller. It took him a moment to figure out how the second change had come to pass before he noticed that Merlin was standing straight as a rod with his shoulders thrown back in a confident manner. Everything about him screamed that he was not to be trifled with, and it was so different from what Arthur remembered as being the clumsy servant boy that he lost his concentration for a moment before he tried to find his place in the letter.

"I do not know, milord." The title again made Arthur look up; he saw Merlin make the slightest of sighs and decided to ask him about it later. "But this was to be sent to you as well." He made a full bow of deepest respect, deeper even than the one he turned immediately around and gave to Arthur. "Ah..." He began slowly backing away. "Good- um, night." 

"Sweet dreams," Merlin muttered after he had gone. 

"You're taking a very cynical approach to all this," Arthur commented. "And you haven't even read the letter."

"I doubt my mood will improve after I read it," Merlin sighed as he accepted the parchment and scanned it with an air of expected disappointment. 

"Who are these... Seers, anyway? Are they priestesses?"

"No. They're prophetesses. Or, rather, they protect the prophecies predicted at the dawn of time."

"I didn't understand a word you just said."

"Neither did I," Merlin sighed, regaining a piece of his humor back. He glanced at Arthur and gave a small smile.

"Gaius?"

"Gaius." 

"Right then," Arthur said as he took the message back. "After you."


	5. Hardships

"What does it mean?" Arthur asked after he had given Gaius enough time to read through the letter. He and Merlin were sitting awkwardly on a bench as Gaius paced about with a soft tread, lost in deep thought. 

"I suggest you go to the Isle of the Blessed," he said finally, arching his eyebrows in sympathetic amusement as Merlin groaned. "Regardless of the state it's in at the moment, there are vaults underneath the old fortress filled with ancient texts. I feel that we will need them to understand this omen."

"But what does it say?" Arthur asked somewhat impatiently. He had been traveling all day, it was late, and he wanted nothing more than to sleep. "I don't understand the language."

"Simply put, it says "dark times are coming." Nothing more. The message is quite vague. But it gives two numbers- I'm guessing a cataloging system for the vaults- and the command to "return to the heart of the Old Religion." 

"So we're going questing," Merlin sighed unhappily. "Great. I just get back from being gone a month in the outlying borders dealing with bandits and immediately set out on a quest. Wonderful."

"No rest for the weary," Gaius agreed.

"At least you haven't just got back from being dead for five years," Arthur retorted pointedly.

"Yeah, but it must have been a nice nap," Merlin chirped with a mischievous gleam in his eyes; Arthur openly laughed. Turning to his physician the king said,

"Thank you, Gaius." He and Merlin exited the chamber as if the past five years had never existed, and Gaius watched them go with a proud smile and reminiscent eyes. They went their separate ways after that, Merlin to clear up some unfinished business and Arthur to get reacquainted with his pillow. When he got into his room he found that Gwen had fallen asleep in a chair despite what must have been her strongest inclination to not do so, and chuckling softly the blond gently picked up his wife and set her down in the bed before joining her a few moments later. The most she did was stir a little, shuffling closer to him until she was curled against his side. Arthur rested his head against hers, breathing in deeply the scent of her hair before dropping off to sleep himself.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

"Wake up!" Arthur said as he threw open the door to Lancelot's room. The knight sat up with an exclamation of shock, the striking woman next to him peering out over the top of his shoulder. "Oh, sorry. Didn't realize you had company."

"Uh, this is my wife, Elaine," Lancelot stuttered. "We married just over a year ago."

"Congratulations," Arthur replied, genuinely meaning it. Elyan and Percival were snickering behind him in the passageway, and he turned back to give them a dirty look. "We're going on a quest today."

"Gaius says Merlin already left," Leon informed as he approached. "They ran out of herbs or something so he'll catch up later."

"Right then," Arthur said brightly. "Once we drag Gwaine out of the tavern we'll be good to go."

"Can I please have everyone leave my room?" Lancelot requested almost pleadingly. The other knights laughed, but obliged, and went to find Gwaine. Surprisingly, they found him in his chambers for once sprawled out over the bed in a tangled mess of sheets. Percival smacked his foot and he started, banging his head against one of the posts. 

"Ow!"

"We're going on an adventure," Elyan laughed. "Come on." Gwaine groaned, eyeing his king with a resigned expression.

"Knew it was too good to last," he sighed. "I need my beauty rest to remain this handsome."

"Sure you do," Leon snickered.

"If I die single it'll be your fault!"

"Get up," Arthur commanded, grabbing one of his legs while Percival grabbed the other. They had a difficult time of it, since Gwaine had grabbed the bedposts and was clinging on furiously. Then Elyan grabbed a quill and tickled his feet with it, and he let go with a girlish yelp. 

"Are you a bunch of children or knights of Camelot?" Lancelot laughed as Gwaine picked himself up off the floor and, grumbling to himself, went to get ready.

"We'll be waiting for you in the courtyard," Percival said as they left to saddle their horses and gear. 

"Why are you saddling another horse?" Arthur asked Elyan, who shrugged.

"It's for Merlin," he explained. "He always catches up with us out there, but he kinda needs a ride." 

"Hey, are you guys ready or not?" Gwaine complained as he checked his horse; it chomped impatiently at the bit and shifted about in place. "I'm ready to go!"

"How?" Leon muttered. "How does he always get ahead of us?" 

"I'm convinced he learned a few tricks from Merlin," Lancelot replied as he swung up onto his own horse. When they were all ready Arthur leapt forward, and his knights followed. They galloped through the lower town and out into the forest on the other side, heading for the Isle of the Blessed. Outside the city wall was a dense haze of mist, which had somehow missed its opportunity to creep through Camelot's streets and settled for wrapping the entire forest in its humid embrace. They were soon soaked to the skin and trudged on miserably, until it began to evaporate in the weak sunshine. About midday Percival happened to glance up and let out an exclamation; Arthur turned in the saddle to see what it was and just about fell off the horse in shock. The shadow of a dragon fell over them with a 19 foot wingspan and long, elegantly sculpted body. Merlin slipped off the back and landed neatly on his toes, uttering something that sounded vaguely like a thank you in a strange, raspy language. They were promptly fanned out as the dragon beat its great wings to rise above the treetops, and the downdraft made the horses skittish. Again, Merlin uttered something in a foreign and soothing tongue to calm them. He grinned at Arthur, dodged a playful swipe from Lancelot, and accepted Leon's arm as he swung into the saddle of the extra horse. The animal knickered happily as his owner ran his fingers through the silky brown and white-striped mane. 

"Hey, Dagda." Turning back to Arthur he said, "we should make good time if we cut across the lake."

" _Across_ the lake?" The knights smirked knowingly. 

"Yeah."

"Okay." Arthur settled for not understanding and fell back to let Merlin take the lead. When they came to the edge of the lake the sorcerer muttered " _sunscín_ " and continued forward. The surface of the water rippled and suddenly became a solid, thick, waving mass; the horses walked on as if nothing were the matter. Arthur uneasily watched the mirror-like surface dip and heave in slow motion, and they descended into a valley only to ride it to the top of a crest and back down again. 

"Think I'm getting seasick!" Gwaine called from the back. Arthur would have delivered a scathing retort had he not agreed with him. 

"Just a bit farther!" Merlin replied confidently. Arthur regarded his manservant cautiously. This was a man who, when he had left, had been totally at odds with his powers. He hadn't even sensed the depths that Arthur had felt when they had shared thoughts, and soon after the Changeling incident it had become apparent that, though that great source of power had been unlocked, the warlock had no real control over it or knowledge of what he could do with it. 

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

_Six Years Ago..._

_"Gaius?" Arthur called as he stepped into the physician's chambers. "Where's Merlin? There's a knighting ceremony today and-" the look Gaius gave him stopped him midsentence._

_"It's the worst I've seen yet," he whispered. Arthur nodded slowly, running his fingers through his hair and eyeing the door to his manservant's room. After brief hesitation he walked briskly up the short flight of stairs and pushed the wooden slabs open. He stepped into the room and froze. Water hung suspended in midair, candles were burning pillars of fire reaching dangerously close to the ceiling, and several objects were floating lazily through shafts of dusty sunshine. Merlin was curled tightly into himself in a corner with his head between his drawn-up knees and his arms wrapped over his neck, shoulders shivering ever so slightly._

_"Merlin?" The warlock looked at him with red-rimmed eyes, and despite himself Arthur took a few involuntary steps back when he saw that his friend's irises were glowing a bright and tumultuous shifting shade of gold._

_"I can't turn it off," he whispered hoarsely. Dark circles showed that he hadn't gotten any sleep during the night. "I just- I can't. I'm sorry, Arthur. I'm not capable of anything right now."_

_"Shut up," Arthur rebuked in his usual manner. He walked up to his manservant and began repeatedly kicking his boots. "Get up, get washed up and decent-looking for a change, and for God's sake clean your chambers. They're a mess." Merlin glared at him, but couldn't help smirking slightly at the same time. The abuse was familiar, easy. Something solid he could grab onto. "Come on. That's an order. I'm the king. You don't do as I say, and I can throw you in the stocks."_

_"I'd love to see you try, you Royal Simpleton." As he spoke, the objects in the room slowly returned to their normal states, and his eyes softly faded back to their regular dark blue. Arthur flashed Merlin a triumphant smile and then slid down the wall to sit next to him._

_"Wasn't so hard, was it?"_

_"Thanks, Arthur."_

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

"Arthur? Arthur!" Arthur was startled out of his reveries as Leon shook his shoulder. The knight had come in close the ride beside him. 

"Sorry. I was thinking."

"Well, we're just at the edge of the lake," Leon said, still eyeing him worriedly. "Elyan thinks a storm's coming in, and I agree with him. Should we set up camp for the night?"

"Yes," Arthur decided. The affirmative action seemed to satisfy the knight that all was well with his king. "Thank you, Leon." 


	6. Haunt

Rain poured down through the forest canopy and turned the clearing they were camping in into a muddy pit, but inside of the circle which Merlin had drawn with the end of a stick everything was dry. The water hit a canopy-like bubble and rolled down the sides, but they were warm and somewhat arid. A blazing fire emitted an inviting glow, and the knights laughed as Gwaine inevitably set fire to his socks again. Merlin, for his part, sat with his back against a tree and balanced a long rough-hewn staff across his legs, deftly running a knife across it in repetition as he worked on evening out the wood. 

"I didn't know you'd caught the plague," he commented snarkily. "Burning your clothing early, are we?" 

"Everybody's a comedian," Gwaine grumbled as he salvaged what was left of his stockings. 

"Hey Merlin, give it a rest," Elyan said. "You've been at that stick for ages."

"I have to get it just right," Merlin explained with a frown. "If I don't then it won't work."

"What won't work?" Arthur asked, curiously regarding the carpentry in his friend's lap. 

"Oh, he's convinced he needs to create a staff," Lancelot replied dismissively. "Something to channel his powers like _normal_ sorcerers use."

"Pointless really," Leon added. "Seeing as he's more powerful than the lot of them all combined." 

"I'm not-"

"Yeah, you are," Percival cut him off before he could even start up a sentence. Arthur smirked and speared another piece of rabbit meat on the end of an arrow before holding it over the fire to cook. 

"And yet he can't keep his footing," he commented mischievously. Merlin huffed and watched with amusement as a part of the protective invisible canopy he'd created cracked open just above Arthur's head before resealing, just long enough for a good douse but not long enough to wet the earth in his immediate vicinity. The king leapt to his feet with an exclamation of surprise as the cold water trickled down his back. 

"Ugh! _Merlin!"_

_"_ Oh sorry, must've lost concentration," the warlock said in as pathetic an apology as he could muster. 

"Ha ha. Your point has been made. Now dry me out." 

"No, I think I like you better this way."

"Merlin!"

_"Ádrúge."_

"Thank you, _precious._ "

"You're welcome, _darling._ " They both threw pieces of wood at Gwaine, who fell over laughing. 

"When we get into these vaults," said Leon slowly, "what are we going to find there?"

"Don't touch anything if you don't know what it is," Merlin said, all playfulness evaporating out of his tone. "I don't know what to expect honestly, except that they'll have taken precautions against scavengers." 

"Well that sounds ominous and forbidding," Elyan muttered as he took his sleeping roll and laid it out on the ground. 

"Not for the faint of heart," Arthur agreed as he stood. "We leave at first light, so I recommend planning accordingly." 

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

"Where're the oars?" Percival whispered. They were standing on the short pier that jutted out into the churning dark waters, staring dubiously down at the rickety little dinghy bobbing up and down with the waves. Merlin pointed at himself before jumping in. 

"Come on. It's not as dangerous as it looks."

"Why doesn't that fill me with confidence?" Lancelot muttered as he stepped down into the heaving boat. Elyan ended up wedged in between Percival and Gwaine, with Leon, Lancelot, and Arthur crammed onto the plank in front of them. Merlin got out when it got too crowded and set the boat silently on its way, walking next to it across the water with his hand firmly gripping the wood to guide it. 

"That's handy," Arthur commented. Merlin smirked. All lightheartedness was effectively crushed as they landed on the shores of the Isle of the Blessed, and tentatively they stepped out into the crumbling stone walls. 

"Stay behind me," Merlin commanded. "Once the mist closes in there's no telling what could happen."

"What mi- oh. Never mind," Gwaine murmured. Everyone was talking in a monotone whisper; the oppressive quality of the place had taken effect. They crept through the disintegrating structure of a once-great palace, through overgrown courtyards and steep-stepped staircases. Once or twice they ran into a few Wyverns lazing about on the parapets, but Merlin spoke soothing words in the tongue of dragons and they completely ignored them afterward. Eventually they paired off into groups of two to explore the place and find the door to the vaults, and that was when the trouble started. 

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

"Lancelot?"

"Yes?" 

"I'm really not liking this," Percival whispered with a shudder. They were walking down a narrow corridor in a part of the fortress which was still mostly intact; the mist had thickly settled in to completely envelop them, and eery whispering seemed to be coming from all around them. The two knights were pressed close together in the tight space, totally on edge and ill at ease. 

"Welcome, Knights of Camelot," a feminine voice said directly from where they had come, making them jump. 

"Gwaine, _shut. Up._ "

"It's not me!" Gwaine yelped sharply as he whirled around in the mist and smashed directly into Elyan. "I swear. We're not alone out here. Something... Something is here with us."

"In the smoke..." 

"What's your rush?" A male voice whispered out of the ether. It seemed to be purring, languid and flowing like one would imagine a cat's to be if they had a human's voice. "Stay awhile. Never leave. It's peaceful here."

"And we get so lonely," another voice, a female's joined the first. "I would simply _love_ to have new company."

**_"Merlin!"_** They both shouted simultaneously. 

"Getting cold feet, Leon?" Arthur asked as the voices cackled playfully with sinister intent about them in the mists. 

"Never, sire." Leon's reply came back quavering and choked. 

"Blast. I was looking for an excuse to say that I was." 

"Then I am too."

"And we'll never speak of this again?"

"Upon my honor."

"Good man."

"You'll never speak of anything to anyone again," the voices sighed. There were three or four of them all in unison, children's voices. The two men jumped and moved closer to one another in fear. 

"Who are you?" Merlin asked quietly. The mist hadn't enveloped him like it had the others. It had chosen to circle him warily, like a viper testing for weakness before striking with fangs bared. It would waste no time playing with its food before moving in. 

"We are the souls of witches and warlocks past," a group said in unison. 

"And what do you want with me?" 

"We don't want anything to do with you. But we want _everything_ to do with your king."

"Why Arthur?" Merlin asked softly, moving with purpose slowly backward through the courtyard he was in. The mist moved in close, but abruptly backed away when his eyes began smoldering a faint, burning and dangerous gold. They remained that way as a warning. There was a pause as the ghosts considered and reevaluated him. 

"He is the Once and Future King," they sighed reluctantly, and Merlin let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"So it is true," he said slowly. "And everything has come full circle." 

"Did you ever wonder why it was that your destiny was to be both Emrys and protector of Camelot's King?"

"I just- I never thought that-"

"Because you never think, do you?" An achingly familiar voice rose above the others, and Merlin felt a chill travel down his spine as Nimueh's spirit detached itself from the main body of mist and assembled into her form in a smoky, shifting haze. "You simply rush in and deal with the consequences after."

"I'm not the boy you faced off against ten years ago," Merlin said warningly; his eyes were shining brighter than ever and he had drawn himself up into a confident, if warily prepared, posture. "I fully know who I am and what I am capable of."

"But do you, really?" Nimueh smiled her trademark smirk and sauntered over, stopping a few mere footsteps out of reach. "How much do you actually know about your destiny, your abilities or their limits? And... About Arthur's?" Merlin's eyes widened and he froze. 

"What do you mean?"

"Still a child grasping at the darkness. Seeking answers where none dare go."

" _You're_ the vault," Merlin realized. "The spirits of the priests and priestesses contain the information. It's their _memories_ that are left behind." 

"Clever boy. I have... A riddle for you. Answer it, and we tell you what you want to know. We let your friends live. They'll find their way out of the mist and back to the boat. Answer wrong, and they die. You walk out of here without ever knowing what it is the Seers sent you here to find. Do we have a deal?"

"Tell me the riddle." Merlin muttered impatiently. Nimueh's smirk grew into a full-fledged nasty smile on her beautiful face. 

"Then listen closely, for I will not repeat. _In the days of the ancients_

_was a castle of glass_

_It was formless and shifting_

_And judged those who entered harshly_

_Within the walls a man could not survive_

_Without three things:_

_-regret_

_-acceptance_

_-and lack of pride_

_There was a hall in this palace of sand_

_Where the soul could be seen_

_And none could withstand_

_It was said that I must be pure_

_As the castle itself_

_For my master to enter and live_

_Of all thoughts, hubris, and intent_

_Without me a man will fall_

_Through his own designs_

_But with me he is subject_

_To pay for his crimes_

_So I will ask once, and will accept no answer but one: who am I, magic's son?"_ Merlin stood thoughtfully for a few moments, and Nimueh waited patiently as he did so. Finally he looked up and uttered the answer so quietly that his reply could have been nothing more than a trick of the wind. Nimueh's smile became strained, and somewhat disappointed, but she consented to the rules by which she was bound and gave him a slight bow.

"Your friends are free to leave as you are," she whispered before beginning to fade away.

"Wait!" Merlin called sharply. "What about answering _my_ questions? What is it that I am supposed to learn?"

"In your answer, you have been given the key to your own question," many voices replied in unison. 

"But- but that makes no sense!" He let out a frustrated sigh as the spirits giggled playfully as they faded away. 

"Merlin?"

"Merlin!"

"Merlin..." 

"I'm over here!" He called, and his voice was like a homing beacon as all the Knights seemed to immediately teleport to his location. They all let out relieved sighs when they spotted everyone else, glancing about warily in case the mists came back.

"Did you find the vault?" Arthur asked sharply; he was quite on edge and not the least bit put off about showing it. Merlin nodded, face puzzled. 

"Nothing made any sense, though."

"Figures," Gwaine muttered. "You go to the place with the evil sorcerers and you get nothing in return but a few riddles."

"You have no idea," Merlin sighed tiredly. 


	7. Hostile

The group was unusually quiet all the way back to the mainland. Even Gwaine was subdued. Again, Merlin was walking next to the boat to make it less crowded with his hand resting on the edge guiding it toward the shore. Arthur would feel a chill go down his spine every once in a while and would turn to see Merlin staring intensely at him, lost in thought, before he looked away. The warlock didn't dare meet his eyes. When they landed at the pier they jumped out like rats abandoning a sinking ship, and were relieved to see that their horses were where they had left them. As it was still only just mid-morning; Arthur decided that it would be best if they got as much distance between them and the Isle of the Blessed as possible. He didn't feel comfortable being near that place. Something about it just made his hair stand on end.

"Hold it," Percival said suddenly after a few hours of travel, leaning far to the side and peering into the underbrush. "There's something out there."

"What is it?" Leon asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Percival dismounted and crept up a small ridge to glance over the top out from behind a tree. He straightened almost immediately. 

"It's a kid," he replied in confusion. 

"What?" Arthur exclaimed. The others began dismounting as well, curious. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure," the large knight retorted a bit testily. "I know a child when I see one." 

"Now what are you doing all the way out here?" Lancelot asked the girl calmly. Her tiny body shivered as she backed slowly away, almost as if she had been cornered. 

"L-lost," she whimpered. 

"She's injured," Gwaine said, noticing a trail of blood droplets falling from a ragged cut on the girl's leg. 

"Let me see," Merlin commanded quietly. As Gaius' ward he had learned quite a bit about medicine, and they parted to let him through without a word. 

"Are you alright?" The warlock asked. The girl shook her head. It was unclear if it was a reply or just a nervous tick. Merlin began his inspection, gently taking an arm or a leg and moving it when he needed to. 

"What's your name?"

"Eirlys." She had exceedingly tanned, freckled skin and dark brown hair, with deep blue eyes peering out of a pretty face. Merlin frowned.

"I'm just going to place my hand on your forehead, all right?" He said soothingly. "Nothing to worry about." He then leaned in close and inspected her eyes. After a few moments he sat back on his heels and sighed. "She's completely blind," he explained. 

"Who?" She whimpered.

"People who can help you," Arthur replied as he bent down to crouch next to Merlin, assuming that she was asking who they were. "Do you have any family?" She shook her head negatively.

"We should take her back with us," Merlin sad quietly, still not meeting Arthur's gaze. The blond's brow furrowed in confusion at this treatment, and he wondered what Merlin had discovered back on the Isle. 

"Agreed," he said aloud. Privately, he thought: "When this is over you and I are going to have a nice, _long,_ and detailed chat." Merlin blinked when his telepathy picked this up, his cheeks flushing ever so slightly with embarrassment. 

"Come on then," the warlock said in a bright tone to Eirlys; kind and confident. He scooped the girl up into his arms and then swung her onto his horse. "Eirlys, this is Dagda. Dagda, Eirlys."

"Hi," Eirlys muttered shyly. Dagda knickered appreciatively as she ran her fingers through his silky mane, and she finally smiled. 

"We can't bring her along with us all the way," Leon whispered to Arthur. It was clear from the expressions on the rest of the knight's faces that they were of the same opinion. "Too many bandits and raiders between here and Camelot."

"I'm sure we'll make do," Merlin replied in an unconcerned tone. Leon was about to protest when he realized that his friend was trying not to worry the girl, and he shut his mouth again without comment. 

"Besides, I think I know a place where we can at least be certain of decent reception," Arthur commented. He was thinking of Teagis and Zira. 

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

"When you suggested a shortcut," Elyan hissed, "I didn't realize you meant the Wilddeoren tunnels." 

"What else would I mean?" Arthur replied innocently. Gwaine looked about ready to kill him. 

"What part of "let's take Eirlys with us" or "she's entirely blind" didn't you understand, Arthur?" Merlin remarked. "We can't take her in there."

"We haven't really been communicating though, have we?" Arthur remarked pointedly. Merlin sighed and scooped Eirlys up into his arms. She clung trustingly to him with her arms wrapped about his neck, and there seemed to be a mutual fondness between them. Arthur smiled, despite himself. It was just too cute.

"You'd better be careful," he said telepathically. "I think she likes you. Take a stray home-"

"And end up with a pet," Merlin finished, also telepathically. He eyed his king with a quizzical look. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Well I haven't been able to get rid of _you_ , so..." 

"Are we going into the tunnels, or not?" Gwaine snapped. "Because if we are I'd _love_ to get it over with as quickly as possible."

"All right Gwaine," Arthur sighed. "If you're so keen, why don't you lead us in?" 

"You had to open your big mouth," Lancelot chuckled as he walked past. 

"Where are we going?" Eirlys asked, squirming in Merlin's arms. 

"Camelot," Percival replied promptly. The young girl wrinkled her nose in disgust as they began crushing disgusting-smelling berries and smearing them on their skin. 

"Yuck." 

"Well you need some too," Leon said kindly as he took some and dabbed it on her nose and cheeks. 

"I can't see now," she complained, tapping her nose for emphasis. "This is all I smell."

"You can still hear and feel," Elyan pointed out as he put some on her arms and legs. 

"I can't see _well_ ," she amended. 

"Well, at least it'll keep you from getting eaten, so..." Eirlys made a sort of growling sound in reply and it made everyone chuckle. 

"Is everyone ready?" Arthur asked. 

"Once Gwaine grows up and puts on the gaja berry paste," Percival chirped. 

" 'ey, Perci?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up." Once they'd actually got into the tunnels it was better; torchlight clearly illuminated the sloping walls, and it turned out that Eirlys was a better guide than anyone else because she could hear the sounds echoing through the caverns and knew which ones led toward the surface or dead ends. She padded cautiously yet confidently through with the knights following after, and it wasn't until they had been significantly been turned around that they realized something was wrong. 

"Uh... I don't think this is right," Elyan ventured. The others were inclined to agree. 

"But it's going up," Eirlys protested. 

"Whether it's going up or not," Arthur pointed out, "I think we're going in the opposite direction of-"

"Get down!" Leon hissed. They all hit the dirt as about three Wilddeoren came around a bend in the tunnels behind them, barely daring to even breathe as the disgusting creatures came steadily nearer. 

"What's that smell?" Eirlys asked. Lancelot abruptly put his hand over her mouth and quieted her as the head of the larger one swung in their direction. It snuffled closer before drawing away, and when it didn't leave with a sickening feeling Arthur realized that they were in the den. He shouted this news telepathically to Merlin, whose eyes widened with horror as he passed the message on to the others. Their reactions were similar. 

"I'm connecting everyone together telepathically," Merlin explained in thought. "We can talk now without the Wilddeoren hearing."

"How are we going to get out of this?" Was the first thing out of Leon's head.

"'Go through the Wilddeoren tunnels,'" Gwaine jibed. "Brilliant idea, I don't think!" 

"Shut up Gwaine," everyone snapped at once. He slumped back against the rocks with a sullen expression on his face. 

"Where's the girl?" Elyan asked suddenly. "Where's Eirlys?" 

"She was right here!" Lancelot exclaimed. 

"She led us here," Percival whispered, pointing. They followed the length of his arm to see her walking almost casually through the Wilddeoren den, setting the creatures in their direction. 

"Oh, no..." Merlin murmured. "She can't be."

"But she's blind!" Arthur retorted, trying to make sense of it all. 

"I see everything," Eirlys said in a voice that sent chills down their spines. "Past, present, and future. What is to come and what must never be." 

"What are you?" Arthur asked. Somehow he already knew the answer. 

"I am a Seer."

"Then why did you lure us here?" Merlin questioned. He seemed most confused out of them all. Eirlys smiled in the dim light. 

"There are some things which are hidden without belief," she replied. "It is my duty to show the way. Sometimes that isn't as nice as people would like. But I must do so, anyway." With that she dissolved into the very air, and the Wilddeoren advanced at them in entire pack force. Somehow in all the confusion, Arthur became separated from the rest of his party and found himself wedged in between a pile of old bones and a tunnel wall with one of the pack reaching its long forearm in to hook him with its claws. He screamed as they broke through the chain mail and pierced deep into his right shoulder, dragging him painfully into the open. Arthur heard the others calling for him desperately, but he was close to blacking out and it was all he could do to remain conscious much less get out a reply. He suddenly felt a startling amount of energy well up inside him and burst free in a brilliant explosion of golden-white light that incinerated his attacker; there was a searing heat in the wounds where the claws had dug in and then he was healed. Arthur was barely aware of anything as he collapsed onto the stone floor, exhausted. There was a dim recollection of someone- or someones- picking him up underneath his arms and carrying him toward safety. 


	8. Hellfire

King, warlock, and knights advanced gratefully out of the tunnels and collapsed next to a chattering stream to wash the gaja berry juice off of their skin. All were bruised, cut, and sore from their ordeal, but none seriously injured. Arthur sat a little ways from everyone else with his hand resting directly over the spot of the scar where Mordred's blade had pierced him, lost in deep and troubled thought. The significance of what had happened in the Wilddeoren den worried him.

"It's called _foresteall sylfum dryht,_ " a voice sighed behind him. "Intervention of fate. It manifests in different forms, but the goal is the same. Until destiny is fulfilled, nothing can harm you." Arthur turned to look at Merlin, who had perched himself on top of a nearby rock with an incredibly weary look on his face. "It's the strongest magic in the entire world," the warlock explained. "Nothing can change it."

"So... We're caught on a path, you and I, and we can't ever veer from the track until what we were destined to do is accomplished?" Arthur said slowly. Merlin nodded. 

"We're both here for a reason, and we can't change that no matter how hard we try. Our destinies have been written into the very energy of the universe since its creation, and when the world wants something to happen it does."

"Like throwing the two of us together?" Arthur retorted with a short, dry laugh. Merlin just nodded, and the smile on Arthur's face faded. For the first time since he had returned, the hardships of the five years he had missed were painfully apparent on the sorcerer's features. He was clearly weary to the bone, and there was a decidedly ragged quality to his entire appearance. Arthur was internally kicking himself for not seeing the most obvious change of all: Merlin's standard clothing, his alternating shirt and neckerchief in colours of bright blue and red with a medium-dark brown leather jacket, were no longer about. He sported a somewhat weathered-looking storm gray cloak that went down to his knees and had a hood attached, with a brown shirt and a dark burgundy red scarf carelessly hung about his neck. He had two daggers attached to his belt on the right side, and on the left a sword sheath which had been appropriated to house his work-in-progress staff of a length equal to that of a regular sword. 

And it was with this realisation that Arthur knew that the carefree boy he'd left had grown up into a man comfortable with his abilities and the power of the position he had been placed into, the authority he had among the magical world. But this man never smiled like he'd used to. He was burdened by the weight of the entire world. Broken, in a way. And when Merlin looked at him with deep blue eyes filled with a depressed acceptance of life, it was too much to bear. 

"We should get back to Camelot," Arthur said abruptly as he stood. The knights stared at him, surprised by this sudden announcement; Merlin sighed softly and grimaced as he got to his feet. One of the Wilddeoren had knocked him into a rock and it had struck his knee in a painful way. 

"Without the horses it'll take a few days," Percival said, ever the voice of reason. 

"We should've just stayed on them," Elyan joked. "They're probably approaching the walls as we speak."

"Don't say things like that," Gwaine pouted sullenly. "I makes me homesick for my usual at the tavern." 

"You're _always_ homesick for your usual at the tavern," Lancelot pointed out. Gwaine just glared at him and made a dramatic show of tidying his thick dark hair.

"Well whatever the case, we've still got to get back," Arthur interrupted before a real squabble could get started up. He started out in a general direction, then retraced his steps and had to go completely the other way when Leon called him back. 

"I knew it was this way!" 

" _Riiiight..."_ Eylan said with a smirk. Merlin gave a dry chuckle that sounded more like a cough, and the noise made everyone else aside from Arthur laugh. But the Pendragon remembered a time when Merlin would have given him a large, genuine "Merlin" smile, the type that lit up his entire face and made a person feel warm inside even if they said it looked stupid because it was just so genuine. And while the warlock looked faintly amused, the smile was jaded with a tired pessimism that made the entire expression look false. 

They didn't make much progress that day, and when sunset came no one ventured the idea of continuing on through the dark. Everyone was simply too exhausted from fighting with the Wilddeoren. Arthur sat with his back against a tree feigning sleep and- through slit eyes- regarded Merlin as the sorcerer watched the knights drift off into fitful slumber with a protective and alert gaze from where he reclined against a fallen log. 

"They can take care of themselves, you know," Arthur said so quietly that he could barely hear himself. Merlin, whose senses had been on hyper-alert in case of ambush, picked it up easily. 

"I knew you weren't asleep," he sighed. "Your heartbeat was too quick and your breathing too light. Not your regular pattern at all."

"If we weren't as close as brothers- never mind. Still mildly disturbing." 

"We're as close as brothers?" Merlin asked suddenly, and Arthur noticed the change in his demeanour from indifferent to suppressed excitement. 

"Well I really wouldn't know," Arthur backtracked quickly in his signature way. "Seeing as I've never _had_ a brother before. But... Looking at brothers, I think we qualify." 

"Arthur-" Merlin started, then stopped. His eyes glistened in the starlight.

"That's why-" Arthur stated as he sat up and shimmied his way over to lean against Merlin's fallen log- "I can tell. I know you're hurting. I can see it in the way you smile, hear it in the tones you use when you speak. Feel it in the way you look at me as if you've witnessed the end of the world and know the last whisper mankind will ever utter. I can tell that you've been broken, Merlin, and that you haven't healed. I can see the scars." The tears in Merlin's eyes fell silently down his face, and dos not go unnoticed by either of them. 

"After you were... _Gone,"_ he began, "everything changed. For starters, the winter that year was the worst we had seen in a decade. All the crops were dying. I scattered the Druids throughout the kingdom and beyond to help keep the winter harvest from- well, you get the idea. We were struggling just to live. Everyone got sick, plenty died. Even the younger, healthier ones. It left its mark on everyone. And Guinevere-" here Merlin caught his breath and paused, drawing in a shuddering breath before continuing. "Gwen got sick too. She- she got so sick that her body was having enough trouble fighting it off without- she um, she-" Merlin but his lip. "She had a miscarriage, Arthur." For a few moments there was silence, the weight of what he had just said settling in. It felt like ice water and pierced Arthur's heart like spears. His hand came up to angrily swipe the tears away, but the action was left uncompleted because, for once, he didn't care if anyone saw him grieve for the child he would never get the chance to know. 

"It hit us all pretty badly," Merlin said with strained voice. He, too, was crying freely. Perhaps the first time he had in a long, _long_ time. "The kingdom mourned, But it hit _us_ hard. Quite a few months after that we were still trying to keep it all from falling apart, you know? The Knights, Gaius, Gwen and me. And we tried. We all tried so, _so_ badly to just move on. It wasn't until we realized we didn't have to that we finally could. And then... Then things started to fall into place. Gwen got a good hold on the reins and managed the kingdom. She took a lot of advice from Queen Annis of Caerleon about that. I had many problems... As advisor to Camelot's queen I was honor-bound for my priorities to be for the kingdom and for the kingdom and its people alone. But as Emrys..." Here Merlin stopped again, and he seemed entirely unwilling to go on.

"You had to think of your people first," Arthur finished in a husky voice. 

"Yes." It was more of a muffled sob than anything else. "And that wasn't easy." Shaky breathing. Shivering, full-body. Inner turmoil beyond limit of concealment. "We had three years of shaky peace after you died, you know. It wasn't anything at all like we had dreamt of. The Druids distrusted the people and the people the Druids. I think the biggest problem was the fact that it was you that gave them the promise of a free world, an equal world, and then you died. And while Gwen was a just and honest queen she simply wasn't you. My efforts only seemed to make the situation worse. To appease the people I enacted laws on the use of magic, determining what was to be legal and what was to be illegal. The problem with that was there was no compromise, and no middle ground. The people wanted them to be stricter, the Druids didn't want them at all." There was a short, choking sort of ironic chuckle. "Listen to me. I can't even consider the Druids as one and the same with the subjects of Camelot. But there was a rival militant sect among the Druids which split off and began terrorising the outlying villages, demanding equal rights. In response, angry farmers and craftsmen took up arms themselves. We've had rioting, ransacking, pillaging, looting, and all sorts of horrible things happen in the last two years. A few massacres, too. And instead of subsiding, they've gotten worse. And I think-"

"This is the reason I've come back," Arthur finished quietly. Merlin looked at him and gave a short nod, half angry and half ashamed. 

"You said that I've been broken," the warlock said slowly, a haunted look coming into his eyes as they met his king's. "Well, I have. I have seen the Hellfire, Arthur, and from that there's no coming back."


	9. Hemorrhage

Everyone in the camp was awakened quite suddenly and brutally by a piercing scream, which echoed through that part of the forest tremendously well and reached the little party without any difficulty. Arthur was scrambling to his feet when Merlin tore past him, face dark with insurmountable fury, and it caught him off guard for a few moments. 

"Arthur, come on!" Lancelot yelled, bringing him out of his stupor. He shook his head and chased after, trying to catch up with the Knights so that he wouldn't arrive last. They reached a break in the trees and stumbled out onto a well-worn road, skidding to a halt. Arthur wasn't certain of what he had been expecting to find, but it wasn't this. Merlin stalked forward, looking for all the world like an avenging angel. Shadows seemed to trail after him like a dark, billowing cloak, and even the sun's bright rays were weaker.

" ** _Hey!_** " He shouted. "Put. Him. Down." The band of sorcerers dropped the traveling merchant immediately, shocked. They went to run but found that they couldn't move, and looked back frightened to see Merlin's eyes smouldering a dark and angry gold. The merchant looked from the group to his rescuer, the fear evident on his face, and he scrambled to his feet and took off at a fair clip down the path. 

"It's not our fault, honest!" One of the thieves rasped. "He owed us money!"

"And dangling him upside down in the air is how you intended to solve the problem?" Merlin asked. Arthur shuddered, despite himself. He had never before seen his friend looking so angry and so dangerous. Glancing at the Knights, he determined that it must happen a lot because they were watching with a keen but adjusted interest. The ringleader's eyes flicked back and forth from one person to the other, never daring to settle on Merlin for any extended length of time.

"We can't help it," he choked. "We're starving. No one will give us work, and we have no supplies to journey to Camelot to appeal to the court."

"Well, the court's here now," Merlin growled unsympathetically. "Looks like you brought it to you." All of the bandits' eyes widened in shock, and they dropped to the ground and knelt before their leader when he released them.

"Forgive us, Emrys!" One wailed. "My wife and child are starving! I had no choice but to steal!"

"I didn't work to legalize magic in the five kingdoms just so that people like you could abuse the position," Merlin said quietly. He wasn't angry anymore, just tired and sad. "Return to your homes," he commanded. "If ever I see or hear of you breaking the law again you won't be let off as easy." They thanked him for his mercy and ran as fast as their legs would carry them into the trees. Merlin turned back to the group and sighed. He did not meet Arthur's gaze. 

"Camelot's a day's walk if we follow the road, sire," Leon observed. Arthur shook himself as if coming out of a nightmare. 

"Yeah. Okay, we'll go that way." Arthur dropped back to the end of the procession and Leon habitually took the lead, so the Pendragon fell into step next to Merlin. 

"You're wondering what that was all about?" The warlock whispered.

"Yes," Arthur hissed. The longer he stayed in Camelot the more confused he became. It was as if the world had turned inside out; white was black and wrong was right. Nothing was as it should have been. Some of his incertitude must have shown on his face, for Merlin tried clumsily to explain.

"When tensions first started... You know, uh, we had patrols of all-Druidic Knights and all-Camelot Knights. Normal people as well as those with magic both took advantage when they were apprehended and would claim that there was discrimination and unfair treatment against them on the part of the knights. It just made things worse. Patrols are now comprised of both types now, to insure that such events don't happen."

"Did they, in the first place?" Arthur asked. Merlin hesitated, then gave the slightest of affirmative nods.

"No system is perfect. There's always been resentment on both sides. Some of the knights- both kind- succumbed to it." 

"And I wasn't here to do anything about it," Arthur retorted sourly. 

"Well you had a really good excuse," Merlin said. It was a very faint shadow of the humor he had once had. He finally looked Arthur straight in the eye, asking a silent question. Arthur answered it by holding out his hand, palm flat and facing Merlin as they walked with fingers spread apart. Merlin brought his hand out to meet it so that they were perfectly placed one against the other, and his eyelids fluttered slightly as his eyes flashed a faint gold.

The knights glanced back when they heard Arthur take in a sharp, pained breath, but seeing that he and Merlin were sharing memories they left well enough alone. It was the torment and heartbreak of the last five years all within five seconds. 

Arthur looked at Merlin with tears stinging his eyes, but still felt he was missing a part of the larger picture. Even Merlin's memories had carefully guarded his emotions, showing the facts as they were and not as he saw them. And Arthur wondered why. With this new knowledge, though, he felt he had a better grasp on the situation at present. The united kingdoms of Albion were bleeding from old wounds, wounds which had healed poorly and were tearing open again with a slow-acting infection. Merlin had tried his best, but he was only one part of a whole, after all: if what he'd said was true about their intertwined destinies, then Arthur would have to help to reach any sort of satisfactory conclusion.

"Oh, you didn't tell me that we were going to be passing through the Forest of Death!" Gwaine whined, bringing the two friends out of their respectively secluded thoughts. "The whole place is cursed. No one ever comes out alive-"

"That's just superstitious nonsense," Percival rebuked. "This area of trees isn't any different from any other."

"Then why does everyone call it the Forest of Death?" Elyan retorted. "Riddle me that."

"Because it's filled with bandits," Lancelot replied matter-of-factly. "Kidnappers. No one is ever seen coming out because the victims are taken through a series of secret tunnels."

"And you know this because...?" Leon asked, pausing to look at him dubiously. Lancelot arched an eyebrow, indicating his good spirits. 

"Heard the rumors from a group of passing robbers at a tavern in Mercia," he explained. "Apparently they'd been a part of the group for a while and had got out on their own."

"You were in a tavern!?" Gwaine exclaimed disbelievingly. "I can't picture it. Not at all." 

"Suit yourself. I really couldn't care less." 

"So about those kidnappers..." Elyan began quietly. The jesting ended and everyone turned to follow the length of his arm to see a group of them- a large one- on the crest of the nearest hill. Some were brazenly showing their Druidic markings. 

"I don't think these are the guys," Gwaine whispered hoarsely. 

"They're the radical sect," Leon identified more for Arthur's benefit than anyone else's. "The Druids that feel they should be in power."

"Absolutely right," a quiet voice spoke up. The men parted for him as he stepped onto the highest part of the embankment. 

"Aęrhÿr," Merlin said just as quietly. Arthur turned; the name had been spoken so softly that for a moment he had thought Merlin was calling to _him_ , as they sounded quite similar at low volume. Aęrhÿr smiled; he was quite unafraid.

**_A/N: Aęrhÿr is pronounced phonetically as Eye-Air-Heer. Back to your previously scheduled programming *smirk*_ **

"Hello, Emrys," he called in a casual if not inpleasurable manner. Interestingly, Merlin seemed to close in upon himself instead of rising to his full height as Arthur had expected; the man looked much more like the serving boy he had known instead of the practically omnipotent sorcerer he now knew him to be. 

"What do you want?" The Pendragon asked warily. 

"Oh, nothing much. Just our rightful place as superior rulers over you commoners. We've been beaten down long enough. And our _perfect Emrys_ hasn't brought us to our glory as foretold by the ancients," Aęrhÿr added, voice hardening ever so slightly. "You see, _I_ think he's just a bit too attached to his _pets."_

_"Pets!?"_ Gwaine retorted indignantly, reaching for his sword.

"Gwaine..." Merlin said warningly, and he froze. The warlock looked back at the outcast Druid, caution in his eyes. "You and I have been reading quite different prophecies."

"Oh, not at all," Aęrhÿr remarked indifferently, coming down the slope of the hill toward them. Merlin made no defensive movement in the slightest, and it finally dawned on Arthur that he was concerned about his ability to protect his friends should Aęrhÿr's followers decide to attack. "They're the same ones. But it appears that you have failed to grasp their true meaning."

"Or _you_ have."

"I doubt it. After all, I am the son of great sorcerers and priestesses down the ages. I come from a long line of magic-born nobility."

"And the story remains the same," Merlin said sadly. "Everybody thinks they're entitled because of the blood that flows in their veins, and not the actions that define who they truly are." 

"Ah!" Aęrhÿr nodded knowingly. "And now we come to the point. I wonder what actions define who _you_ truly are... _my lord."_ The last words were spoken sincerely; if it weren't for the blatant fact that he meant them with all intended mockery. He then turned to the knights. "Like I said earlier. He's too blinded by loyalty to his friends to do what needs to be done." In movement too quick for anyone to react he wheeled about and stretched out his arm toward Merlin, eyes flashing bright red. "But I can fix that. _Àfeormest!"_

_"Merlin!"_ Arthur shouted, racing forward with the knights so close behind him that he could feel Lancelot's breath on the back of his neck and Leon's boot kick his heel. They skidded to a halt as the renegade Druids leapt toward them; Aęrhÿr stopped them with a single sharp order. He and his men watched with vested interest- the others horror- as Merlin cried out and dropped to the ground, enveloped in a cold blue flame and crackling electricity of bright gold. When it dissipated Merlin was a limp form of stormy clothing on the ground. Slowly he straightened back up, brushing the sediments of decaying foliage off of his clothing with mild annoyance. Aęrhÿr and the rest of the Druids bowed deeply. Merlin looked at them indifferently.

"Rise," he said, voice hollow and completely devoid of emotion. His dark blue eyes were strangely blank. They rose, and followed him as he began walking off into the forest. 

"Merlin?" Arthur called out questioningly. Though he tried not to let it show he was frightened for his friend. Merlin paused briefly, and when he glanced almost as an afterthought at Arthur it was as if he were gazing at a stranger. "I am Emrys," he said as he drew himself to his full height and started walking again without a second consideration.


	10. Halved

Lancelot watched Merlin and Aęrhÿr's Druids disappear into the shadows of the forest with disbelief. Arthur was openly ranting, Elyan, Leon, and Percival had their faces mere inches away from each other as they conversed and assessed the situation, and Gwaine... Lancelot looked at the silent Gwaine and just _knew._ Merlin wasn't Merlin anymore. He was Emrys now. There was a nod, and Lancelot went over to Arthur and quietly whispered into his ear.

"We need to head back to Camelot." Arthur froze mid-rant and turned to look at him with tears staining his face. He didn't even try to wipe them away. 

"I know." The words were whispered so quietly that it looked like he was mouthing them without any sort of sound emitted whatsoever. "I know." Lancelot turned to the others and saw that they understood that they had to leave as well. They wordlessly started back down the path and into the approaching dawn. 

Sunrise was a bloody red that morning, and all the knights felt as if an oppressive darkness was about to descend upon them all. They traveled for most of the day and into the better part of the next night, and all the time clouds had been gathering until the sky was heavily overcast. At some point after they stopped to sleep they were awakened by becoming drenched when the storm broke, and they huddled together miserably underneath a tree with a thicker than normal canopy. The loud crack of twigs made them all look up sharply, and Arthur stared in disbelief as Teagis came wandering up the hill toward them. He was carrying a stretched piece of thick leather canvas tied at the ends and supported by wooden beams, which spread out from a central axis in a long stick that he was holding. It was ingenious, and keeping him dry.

"Thought you might've been bandits!" He called out in a relieved voice. "Never know along this road." Spotting Arthur he laughed. "Well, I'll be. Sir Bradley! Good ta see you arrived home safely, sir. But where're my manners? This rain is freezing, and you must be soaked to the marrow. Come to the house. Zira'll be most pleased to see you're alright."

"No, I really can't impress upon you and your family any-" Arthur began to protest, but Teagis rolled over him like a boulder. 

"Nonsense! We always help anyone who needs it." He walked a few paces back the way he had come, paused, and added impatiently, "well, come on." The knights scrambled to their feet and followed after the kindly old farmer. 

"So..." Gwaine began quietly. "Who's Bradley?"

"I am," Arthur whispered back. "And it's safer for them if they continue to believe that."

"Do we need fake names as well then?" Percival asked.

"Because we're pretty well-known now," Elyan added. "The first five of the Round Table and all that." 

"I don't think it's really necessary," Arthur replied. "As long as you're knights you should be fine. I just don't want Aęrhÿr attacking them because they helped the king of Camelot." They reached the little farmhouse and were ushered inside by a militant Zira, who herded them into a tight bunch and then, looking at them intensely, murmured " _adrugé"_ so that, quite suddenly, they were all quite dry. Each was handed a heated glass of cream, which was warm, filling, and surprisingly comforting. Teagis waited until they'd for some of the thick white liquid down to restore their spirits before speak again.

"If you wouldn't mind, Sir Bradley, introducing your fellow knights here?" 

"Ah, that'd be my job," Leon said quickly. Arthur gave him a grateful look. "First off, I thank the pair of you for being so kind to a group of strangers from a neighboring kingdom. I am Sir Leon." He glanced at the other knights and labeled them in turn. "These are Sirs Lancelot, Gwaine, Elyan, and Percival." 

"Zira..." Arthur said slowly, looking up from where he was cradling his mug of cream at the end of the table. "Would it be too much to ask if you could explain to us the current tensions between the radical sect of Druids and the majority? We've just had a run-in with them, and I'm simply curious." Zira's eyes grew dark. 

"Aęrhÿr," she growled. "He seeks the old ways, in the time of the Old Religion. All transgressions are to be repaid with blood, and death is rewarded with death. It is a very cruel form of government. Most do not wish a return to the dark times. Even now, with the situation between the five kingdoms and the Druids only going worse and worse. It is still preferable to what would happen if Aęrhÿr had his way. There would be a cleansing of the magical blood, so that it could be "pure." Regular people would be subject to us as slaves, not equals. And equals and peace are all we want from this world, all we feel we deserve. Your King Arthur knew that, but since he passed things just haven't gone as planned. His honor, his friendship with Emrys... They were what made our people trust in a different path again. A better path." 

"I'm sorry it didn't go as planned," Arthur replied quietly. The knights were looking at him worriedly, as it seemed that all the fire had gone out from him with whatever had happened to Merlin. 

"Well you can't help dying, can you?" Zira remarked pointedly. "Besides, you're back now. You can do something about it." Arthur stared at her incredulously. 

"It wasn't hard to figure out, dear boy," Teagis laughed when he saw his expression. "You arrive in Camelot precisely on schedule, and then the very next day the news is out in all the five kingdoms that the king's returned." 

"Points for even bothering to make the connection in the first place," Gwaine laughed, and Arthur suddenly realized that he had hardly spoken at all since the incident with Aęrhÿr's men in the woods. Lancelot hadn't said a word other than to rouse him from his temporary insanity. 

The storm was still wild and unpredictable outside, and so they all paused in confusion when they heard something that sounded vaguely like an exclamation of human pain. In the noise of the wind and the lashing rain it was hard to tell. It repeated at least nine times more before Arthur decided it was worth investigating. Lancelot stood to go with him without a word. 

"No point in all of us getting wet again," Arthur said as the other knights began to stand as well. Gwaine flopped back into his place on the hearth next to the fire with an exclamation of gratitude. Arthur and Lancelot visibly braced themselves in front of the door before heading out into the deluge once again, aiming for the direction of the noise. They knew they were on the right track as it grew louder the closer they approached, and they did so cautiously. Lancelot suddenly let out a cry of shock and tore ahead, leaving Arthur to scramble after him shouting in confusion. He arrived to see the knight bend down over the form of a naked man, pale skin covered in a thick layer of mud and dark hair matted with it.

"Oh, no... No..."

"Help me with him," Lancelot said promptly. Arthur grabbed one of the unconscious man's arms and slid it over his shoulders, supporting the wiry yet strong frame on one side while Lancelot did the other. They stood there like that for a few moments, and so intense was the rain that it beat the mud off of his body and pounded it out of his hair. Lancelot and Arthur then unclad their red cloaks, and one was wrapped securely about his torso while the other was thrown across his shoulders. They stumbled back to the cottage, and the remaining knights sprang up from the table in shock. 

" _Adrugé,"_ Zira stated firmly as the water evaporated off of them. Arthur and Lancelot helped the newcomer over to the chair which Percival and just vacated, and she set about making certain that he was all right. Her fingers trembled slightly when she touched him, her breath irregular and nervous. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she gave her prognosis.

"He's alright, far as I can tell. Not a scratch on him, though he seems to be very weak at the moment. Let him sleep until the morning." She eyed him with reverence before turning to Arthur. "Explain to me what happened when you ran into Aęrhÿr and his followers." So Arthur told her the story with an occasional helpful interjection from Elyan, Percival, and Leon; Gwaine and Lancelot were still maintaining their eery silence. When they were finished Zira sat back in her chair and sighed. 

"Aęrhÿr performed a cleansing spell," she sighed. "What it does is this. It cleanses the soul of all emotion, not memories mind you. Just emotion. It leaves behind the husk of the person it was performed on, a purely practical and logical creature based on the simple principle of survival. They are easily subject to the will of others. But Aęrhÿr performed the spell on Emrys, and he resisted. The resistance, I'm guessing, created a copy of himself with all his emotions intact, splitting him into two people." Zira looked at her audience helplessly. "At least, I'm relatively certain that that is what happened. Such a thing has never occurred before." 

"Thank you for all you've done for him," Lancelot finally said. He stared down at Merlin's limp form sleeping fitfully in the chair, and it was clear that he would be up all night in vigil. Arthur ran his fingers through his friend's dark hair, feeling a sense of helplessness wash over him. It was all his fault. 


	11. Helpless

Arthur sat up with a yelp as the tufty black hair that had slid through his fingers moved; this set off a girlish shriek from Gwaine as he was startled awake, effectively rousing the rest of the household. Merlin sat bolt upright on the cot he was occupying, and if Arthur's hand hadn't been planted firmly on his head he probably would have continued up to the vaulted ceiling. 

"I'm awake!" He said quickly, his arms coming up to shield his face instinctively. Arthur wondered what had trained this motion into him before his question was answered. 

"Relax, Merlin." It was Elyan. "We don't even have a bucket, much less water, to throw on you." The warlock did as instructed, letting out a breath and collapsing back onto the bed. If the situation wasn't so precarious Arthur would have laughed. Instead, he took a cursory glance about the room and noted Lancelot's sleep-deprived form, as well as hopeful expressions on everyone else's faces. Not wanting to antagonize the man if he was actually the emotionless Emrys, Arthur decided to be cautious.

"Merlin?" He asked softly. The warlock started sharply, craning his neck to see who was sitting behind him. 

"Arthur?" He said questioningly, trying to figure out what it was the king wanted from him. 

"How do you feel?" A carefully crafted inquiry. Merlin gave him a confused yet genuine smile, words beginning to tumble off of his lips but catching in his throat when he saw the guarded expressions of the other people in the room. 

"I don't understand the question," he said, cocking his head and allowing an eyebrow to arch non-comprehension.

"How do you feel?" Arthur repeated.

**_A/N: Tell me what movie I'm stealing this from and it will make me very happy._ **

"I'm feeling as if I were stripped, flogged, turned inside out, and then dropped over the edge of a cliff," Merlin replied honestly. "Which is basically what happened. I feel... Okay, I guess. Just really, really tired, and-" he paused. "And like I've lost something precious that I-" he broke off, eyes becoming unfixed and distant as he sought to locate what had apparently been stolen. Arthur appeared satisfied with the response. He patted Merlin's arm affectionately and withdrew over to the farthest corner to confer with his knights. 

"He seems just fine," Gwaine was the first to speak up, breaking the silence he had maintained for an abnormal and un-Gwainelike period of time. 

"He has all of his memories and emotions intact," Lancelot agreed. 

"I say we take him back with us and work out how to beat Aęrhÿr once we're safe within the walls of the citadel," Percvial added. 

"Merlin can heal up and prepare his magic for the inevitable fight," Elyan prodded. Arthur said nothing, then turned to Zira and Leon. 

"And you two?" He asked. 

"What they said," Leon replied. "I believe it would be our best option."

"As I have already said," Zira began, "I've never seen a spell backfire in this manner before. But he certainly seems to be fully in command of all his faculties. I would simply caution that you have a physician skilled in both science and magic examine him upon your arrival back in Camelot, but otherwise there is nothing more I can do for you. He should be well enough to travel." 

"Thank you for everything you've done for us," Arthur said gratefully. The knights took this to mean that they were departing immediately and began to pack what little supplies they had brought in with them away for travel. Merlin was served breakfast first, but the Arthur and the knights received a hearty meal as well. Teagis and Zira practically had to shove them out of the house to be rid of their ceaseless praises and assurances of genuine, shamelessly abasing gratitude. 

Merlin seemed to be in good spirits even though he was dressed in ill-fitting apparel, happy to be on the move again. They reached the limits of Camelot's border a little after midday and were beginning to trek through a narrow valley when they were ambushed by bandits. Arthur got caught up in the middle of the battle and had little thought for much else other than keeping himself alive; everyone in the group were completely capable of fending for themselves. He dodged, weaved, kicked, sliced, and punched his way through the mass of raiders until, realizing they were outnumbered in skill if not in numbers, they fled back the way they had come. Panting hard, Arthur turned to investigate his men. 

"Leon?"

"Good. Elyan?"

"Fine. Percy?"

"Right as rain. Gwaine?" 

"Still alive. Lancelot?"

"I'm fine. Anybody seen Merlin?" Arthur had had more buckets of ice water travel down his spine concerning Merlin in the past few days than he had ever had about anything else in his entire life. He turned swiftly to scout the area and found a bundled form of clothing and dark hair among a large pile of leaves. 

"What are you doing down there?" Leon asked. 

"Tripped over a root!" Merlin called back as he stumbled to his feet with a huge smile plastered to his face. No one bought it, though; his usually pale skin was as white as ash with a pasty gray tint to it and his deep blue eyes were mostly black due to the excessive dilation of his pupils. His breathing was quick and shallow, and every fiber of his being seemed to be shivering. He was terrified. 

"Merlin, what's wrong?" Elyan asked, coming over to his friend with a look of great concern on his face. Merlin's smile abruptly melted, and he sank back down against the tree bark as if his legs were too weak to support him. This immediately alarmed everyone, and they swarmed him. 

"It's okay buddy, I've got you," Gwaine grunted as he took half of Merlin's weight. Lancelot dove in and supported the other half, murmuring assurances under his breath but mostly being a strong, silent presence of comfort. They slowly lowered him the rest of the way to the ground while the others watched, and then Percival and Leon remained standing in case the thieves came back while the other three crouched on their heels. Arthur bent down onto his knees until he was directly at eye level with his friend, who seemed to have disconnected himself from everything and was looking at the world through someone else's eyes. 

"Merlin," Arthur said firmly and gripped his shoulder in a vise-like hold. "What's wrong?" Merlin slowly turned those dilated eyes on him, opened his mouth, and then closed it again. It was some time before he actually spoke. 

"I found out what I'm missing," he said slowly. At the moment he looked so frail and helpless that he wouldn't have even intimidated a common housefly. "When I copied myself, it was... Perfect. I- this body is a copy, but no less real than my old one. It's like I switched minds with an identical twin. At least... So I thought." A shuddering breath, the last few words cracking as the fear-filled eyes pricked with tears. "I left something behind, though. Something that I need to be complete." A sickening feeling was beginning to creep into Arthur's stomach, and he was hardly surprised when his suspicions were confirmed. Merlin looked at him and actually broke down crying, something he rarely ever did. Arthur let him bury his face in his shoulder, let the sobs rack his slender body, let some of the turmoil pass freely into the world. He waited patiently for his friend to regain his dignity, which could be temporarily misplaced but never lost. It took a while for the blubbing to actually end. When it did Merlin pulled away with a quiet "thanks."

"You don't have your magic, do you?" Arthur asked softly, understandingly. Merlin just shook his head, red-rimmed eyes not daring to lock with anyone else's.

"No," he whispered in a raspy voice. "No, I don't." 


	12. Harbinger

Arthur glanced up from the papers he was reading as Merlin softy entered the room. The change was entirely noticeable; he was dressed in light tan boots, belt, and knee-length coat with creamy brown pants and a white shirt. The effect when combined with his pale skin and deep, dark blue eyes and black hair was that he appeared wraithlike, a ghost wandering listlessly about the castle. They'd been back for two days and Merlin had actively avoided anyone that knew him, so his presence fairly piqued Arthur's curiosity. 

"A Druid caravan was attacked by vengeful farmers yesterday," he said quietly. 

"I know," Arthur sighed, gesturing to the report. 

"You need to call a war council." 

"Whatever for?" 

"That attack will be seen as an act of war."

"I doubt the Druids will listen to Aęrhÿr and let him lead them into battle."

"He won't. But he's got me. I might not be their king, but they listen to me." Arthur looked up from the document again, this time with a worried expression on his face.

"But... If you don't have any emotions and only respond to direct threat, why would you care if people get attacked or not?"

"You don't understand," Merlin stated miserably. "I don't just _have_ magic. I _am_ magic. Any attack on magical beings is an attack on me."

"And you'll respond," Arthur realized. 

"I can't help you," Merlin sighed. "I'm just a lesser copy of myself." Arthur came up so quickly from his seat, eyes blazing, that he sent a plate flying. Merlin leapt at the crash it made against the wall like a cat scared of its own shadow, and the movement was so pitiful that Arthur's anger was tempered although his eyes still blazed. 

" _Never_ say that you're lesser," he said quietly. "If you're still you then you are far greater than the man they have leading them. He might have your memories, but he isn't you. Your capacity to care for others has always been your greatest strength, not your magic. You understand?" 

"Yeah," Merlin said, eyes wide. Regaining enough of his humor to feel up to bantering he added, "Never knew you cared."

"For all my abuse Merlin," Arthur sighed, "I really do value your friendship and advice." He paused meaningfully. "And that was _before_ I found out you had magic." Merlin gave a genuine but slightly strained smile of appreciation as Arthur stood, and then he snickered. The blond immediately rounded on him. 

"What? What did I do wrong this time?" He asked. Merlin laughed. 

"You've got the back of your shirt tucked under your belt and caught on your pants." 

"I should give up at trying to dress myself," he groaned. "I'm useless at it."

"You're actually coming along quite well," Merlin encouraged. "Really. You haven't made a mistake like that in-" he paused and eyed the king meaningfully. "You did that on purpose." Arthur smirked as he fixed the shirt and was about to submit a reply when Elyan came flying in, a flurry of arms and legs as he skidded to a halt. 

"Those scouts you sent out have spotted a large movement in the Druid camps," he exclaimed. Arthur's eyes hardened into chips of blue flint. 

"Elyan, call a war council," he said solemnly. "Merlin, fetch Gaius and Guinevere. I want everyone in on this." 

"On it." Merlin disappeared back into the hall as softly as he had come, and Elyan stayed long enough to exchange a worried glance with Arthur. 

"Will he be alright?" He asked. Arthur sighed. 

"I just don't know, Elyan. I hope so." 

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

"Aęrhÿr is malicious, sire," Gaius was explaining as Merlin drifted into the room. "He will do whatever it takes to see that he achieves what he desires, and quite frankly we haven't seen his worst yet."

"I'm more concerned about Emrys to be honest," an unknown knight with the Druidic Triskelion tattooed on his right hand interjected. "In his current emotional state- or lack thereof- he will be a purely calculating force. Logical and merciless. He will see the attack on the Druid caravan as a threat against all magical beings, and will respond. Whatever Aęrhÿr would have done there is nothing that can compare to the devastation that Emrys can do on his own to protect his people." 

"You can't be sure of that," Leon protested.

"Actually," Merlin broke in, "He can be." The entire room went deathly silent, so much so that Arthur could hear his own heartbeat. There was the proverbial cough from someone at the back who they couldn't see, and Merlin wriggled his shoulders uncomfortably under the amount of not-staring that was taking place. Finally he took an audible deep breath and spoke again.

"My magic comes from within and without. I draw strength from myself and from the world around me. You can't fight the entire world."

"Nothing to be said if we never tried, eh?" Gwaine joked. "Personally I've always entertained the idea that legends would be told about me after I'm gone. Anyone else?" 

"Is there a way that we can-" Percival began, but stopped when Merlin shook his head. 

"I know what you're going to say, but no. There isn't. The cleansing spell is irreversible. Once a person's soul is purged there isn't any way of getting it back." 

"You might not have your magic Merlin," Lancelot said quietly, "but you can still help us. After all, he _is_ you. You know him better than anyone else."

"Not anymore. The man leading the Druids to war... He's not me. He's... Something else entirely." Arthur thought back to one of the few moments in which Merlin had given them a glimpse at the true extent of his powers. It was on an occasion where the two of them and the Knights were faced with certain death, not long after the events with the Changeling.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

_"Merlin, stop!" Arthur kept shouting repeatedly. There was a heavy downpour beating into the earth, with lightning striking mere inches from their position. The Knights were cowering under an overhang, pressed close together as Merlin screamed into the sky. His eyes were blazing gold and his entire body rigid; their attackers had fled long ago._

_"Merlin! You can stop now! We're safe!" The screaming subsided, the tautness of the boy's body loosening. He slowly turned to Arthur as if in a trance, the gold in his eyes sluggishly fading away to be replaced by a wide, scared blue. He took a long time in clearing his throat, as if his mouth refused to work properly. At last, as the rain began to subside, he finally managed to choke out:_

_"I'm sorry."_

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

"Merlin-" Guinevere started, but Merlin was already walking out of the room. 

"I'll talk to him," Lancelot said, standing to follow. Arthur nodded, and the council continued. 

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

"Merlin!" Lancelot called, jogging down the corridor to catch up to him. Merlin paused and leaned heavily against a stone column, staring out into the courtyard as if he could find his missing magic within its confines. 

"I don't see a way out of this, Lancelot," he murmured without turning to look at him. "I'm not even sure this copy of myself is immortal. I just know that it will end bloody." 


	13. Heed

Arthur hadn't forgotten a word that anyone had said at the war council. He sat in his chambers at the table with a thoughtful look on his face, pondering the implications of allowing his men to face such a threat when they had loved ones who cared about them waiting at home for them to never return. Upon hearing a soft, whispery sound he turned to see Guinevere treading quietly across the floor, the very hem of her sunset-colored dress only just grazing the stone. 

"Trouble sleeping?" She asked knowingly as she sat in the chair next to him and placed a comforting hand on his arm. 

"I can't stop thinking about the meeting," Arthur admitted. "What sort of man would I be if I knowingly sent my men into battle against such a threat when they were ill-equipped to face it?"

"You heard Merlin," Guinevere reminded gently. "They'll never _be_ prepared for it. Emrys is too strong." 

"... But Merlin isn't," Arthur reasoned slowly, sitting bolt upright and placing his elbows on the table as his hands came up to ponder before his mouth. He turned his head to a confused Guinevere. "Don't you see? Some part of Emrys is still Merlin. They are one and the same. And you can't destroy yourself. It's not logical thinking."

" _You're_ not logically thinking right now," Gwen huffed playfully. 

"Merlin and I, we share a destiny together. Two sides of the same coin. Without me, he can't complete it."

"You can't destroy yourself," Gwen echoed as she suddenly realized what he was getting at. Arthur glanced at Excalibur resting on the table and gleaming bright in the light of the fire. 

"And I have something that can destroy anything," he whispered. "I'm willing to bet that it can even break through a _foresteall sylfum dryht."_

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

A bright shaft of sunlight suddenly cut through the room and landed on Arthur's face as he slept. He winced, then sneezed as he awoke with a start. Guinevere mumbled something and then rolled over. He hadn't wakened her. Merlin was standing next to the window curtains with the look of a lost puppy on his face as Arthur got out of the bed as stealthily as possible and accompanied his manservant and advisor into an adjoining room. 

"What is it?" He whispered drowsily. 

"Our scouts reported back at dawn," Merlin whispered back, looking worried. "They observed large numbers of Druids massing in the forest lands just past the white mountains." 

"Aęrhÿr's faithful."

"Yes." Merlin paused, his voice becoming bitter. "Emrys calls, and they answer."

"Don't think like that."

"How else am I supposed to think?"

"... Positively!" 

"Dollophead."

"Idiot." 

"If you two are going to argue, do it somewhere else!" Guinevere's voice filtered in from the adjoining room and Arthur smirked at Merlin, who only managed a depressed faint upward curve to his mouth in return. The king's smile faded when he saw how completely hopeless his friend was, and comfortingly he wrapped his arm about the manservant's neck and drew him in close. Merlin let out the slightest of whimpers and let his head droop against the blond's shoulder; the action held the equivalent of taking several skewers and sticking them into Arthur's heart. Seeing the usually confident and peppy warlock in such a state of depression was unbearable. 

"We need to meet them before they reach Camelot," Arthur explained gently. 

"I know," Merlin sighed. "I just wish I wasn't the reason." There was a long pause, but Arthur sensed he had something to say and remained silent. "I guess, in the end... Uther was right." The Pendragon's free hand balled into a fist, and he felt his nails dig deep into the palm. He had to take a deep breath to calm himself before replying.

"Uther was a tyrant," he soothed. "He used magic as an excuse to avoid facing the consequences of his own actions, and in doing so many innocent people suffered for it. But his reign of terror is over. I won't let it cast its long shadow over the future any longer. Today, whether Camelot stands or falls, will decide once and for all the fate of Albion. You told me that our destinies are intertwined so deeply within each other that nothing can stop them from being fulfilled. I believe in that. Moreover, I believe in _you._ And I know that, somewhere in that shell walking about out there, some part of you lives on. I put my faith in that. In _you_. I always have, Merlin... Well, once I got to know you." 

"Thanks," Merlin whispered. There was a slight chuckle to the words, and taking a deep breath he pulled away from resting against Arthur's shoulder to smile appreciatively at him.

"What else are friends for?"

"Annoying the other friend."

"Ah, see this is the Merlin I'm used to." 


	14. Hide

Rasping breathing. Sharp, pained gasps. An occasional cry of pain. Merlin looked out over the misty forest and sighed. He heard a coughing racket start up further inside the cave, and swallowing back a lump of tears he ventured toward the sound, worriedly dabbing at Arthur's glistening forehead as beads of a cold sweat trickled down his neck. 

"Arthur, please. Please, just stay with me. Don't leave, not now. Not again." He murmured a healing incantation and growled in frustration when it didn't work, the empty feeling inside of him more poignant than ever. There was nothing there, nothing. 

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

**_ The Morning Before _ **

_Arthur paused in fastening his swordbelt to call into an adjacent room._

_"Come on, Merlin. Haven't got all day."_

_"I was just making certain that it was sharp enough," Merlin protested as he came back into the chambers. He himself wore a coat of chainmail and had a sword of his own in its sheath, and despite himself Arthur laughed. If there was one thing that made Merlin look any less like a warrior than he already was, it was putting him in armor._

_"You look ridiculous," he observed as he was handed Excalibur._

_"Thank you, sire, for your words of encouragement," Merlin muttered sarcastically as he tightened one of Arthur's shoulder plates. There was a slight knock on the door._

_"Come in."_

_"Sire?" Lancelot said as he walked in, crimson cape billowing out behind him. "The knights are ready."_

_"Very good," Arthur retorted, glaring at Merlin as he pulled a strap too tight. The warlock smirked before adjusting it. "I'll speak to them as soon as I'm in my full armor." Lancelot nodded before striding out._

_"You'll be careful out there, won't you?" Merlin asked, taking the tone of a reprimanding parent. Arthur groaned._

_"Yes, mother."_

_"Good. I'd hate to see that armor ruined again. Took me forever to get it fixed last time."_

_"It must have been difficult trying to do so after a day at the tavern," Arthur retorted snidely. The pair had fallen into their typical light-hearted bantering to ease the severity of the battle which lay before them._

_"All done," Merlin stated proudly as he stepped away to admire his handiwork._

_"Right then. Aęrhÿr had better watch out."_

_-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-_

Merlin cried softly as he stroked damp blond hair, flinching at the thunderstorm which was raging outside. The mist was billowing like steam, and condensation dripped down the rough stone walls of their shelter. No matter how hard he tried, there simply wasn't any magic to summon. He was on his own, without horses or supplies. Maybe if one of the knights had accompanied them, he could have brought his king to a place which would have been able to do more good. 

His quiet crying turned into a hiccuping sob as he slowly watched Arthur's breathing grow shallower and shallower with each passing hour. Outside, the thunderstorm worsened. 

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

_"Are we all in position?" Arthur asked. Elyan scampered up the steep embankment where they were lying flat on their stomachs and dropped down to join them, sliding in between Gwaine and Leon. He nodded. "Good."_

_All along the narrow path knights of Camelot perched, crouched, waiting in ambush. It was their one and only truly effective weapon, not counting the Druidic members of their order. The problem was numbers. Aęrhÿr's army outmanned them two to one, and they were either in possession of magic or mercenaries looking for a quick score. Their only chance was to take the advantage of choosing the terrain, and in making the first strike. Merlin shifted uneasily in his position next to Lancelot and Percival, annoyed by the tree roots sticking into his torso. Arthur glanced over the top of Percival's head and smiled slightly, but the faint sound of marching feet and hoofbeats drew everyone's attention as it steadily grew louder._

_The Pendragon let out a deep breath, closed his eyes briefly to compose himself, and braced for the fight that was about to meet them._

_-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-_

Merlin awoke with a gasp, shying from whatever nightmare he'd been in the midst of. He hadn't intended to doze off. Groaning, he blinked the sleep out of his eyes to see that it was just barely dawn; a milky purple sky was slowly turning to a bloody orange on the horizon. The rain had come and gone in the night. 

Climbing over an inconveniently-located rock, he went to check on Arthur's condition, shutting his eyes tightly and taking in several deep, calming breaths. Part of him was relieved that he was still alive, but the other part knew that, without medical aid, he wouldn't be for much longer. 

Redressing the bandages was difficult in itself. Merlin found it increasingly more aggravating to change them as his supply of clean cloth began to dwindle, but he gritted his teeth and, taking off his chainmail, he stripped off the thick protective red padding of the tunic to cut it into several pieces and packed the wound with it. He shivered as he slid the chainmail back on, the cold metal burning against his bare skin. His nose and eyes were red and puffy from crying, throat hoarse, and his lips and cheeks were flushed an unnatural crimson due to the chill weather. 

What scared him most was Arthur. He'd lost so much blood... Looking at his ashen and clammy complexion, Merlin had never felt so useless in his entire life.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

_In the heat of the battle, Arthur turned around and found that Merlin was no longer with him. It was one of the most terrifying revelations of his life. He fought his way through a series of duels and then tore for the edge, skirting the fringe of the fighting looking for any sign of the familiar dark-haired head._

_"I told you to stay next to me!" He exclaimed angrily, more upset at himself than anyone else. "Merlin!"_

_"Hello Arthur." The Pendragon froze, and it felt as if the battle raging around him had faded into nothingness._

_-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-_

Merlin crouched far back from the entrance to the cave, his own body thrown over Arthur's and shielding him as a horde of Aęrhÿr's men passed by. Some of them were already in the cave, but hadn't found the narrow crevice which opened out to the main part. It was dark, hard to find. And they didn't have torches. He didn't dare even to breathe as they rustled around, and it wasn't until they were gone for good that he eased himself carefully off of Arthur's limp, unconscious form to sneak through the opening and into the entrance to see if they were still nearby. They weren't.

"Bought a bit more time," he rasped.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

_"Merlin, please." Emrys regarded Arthur with cool, emotionless dark blue eyes as he walked purposefully toward him. "This isn't you. This is what Aęrhÿr forced you to become."_

_"I have always been, and forevermore shall be," Emrys replied cryptically. "I am born of the world, and the world born of me."_

_"It doesn't have to be this way," Arthur pleaded. He was fighting for his friend's soul. To him, there was no higher calling. "Come back to Camelot with us. We can heal you."_

_"There is nothing to heal. I have been set free. My people need me now, and I have delayed in bringing them aid for far too long. I was bound by loyalty. Emotion. Right and wrong." Arthur slowly began backing away as Emrys approached, unnerved. They were Merlin's eyes, but they were expressionless. Merlin's voice, but it was dead and flat. "I no longer answer to those things. I am magic. I am pure." On the last word, his eyes began to glow a soft, pulsing gold. The men immediately around them fighting on Arthur's side, as well as a few of Aęrhÿr's, disintegrated into ash. Only those who were Druids were spared, on both sides._

_"Merlin."_

_"I will not harm my own, nor can I harm you. Destiny decrees that we will shape the future of Albion."_

_"Yes, together!"_

_"It did not say how." Arthur felt a chill travel down his spine, and he had a moment of clarity in what he had to do._

_"If this is the way it has to be," he stated definitively, and raised Excalibur above his head before driving the blade hilt deep into his abdomen. The most reaction he got out of Emrys was a single blink of the eyes._

_"Arthur! No!" Arthur smiled through the pain as Merlin's blurry and armor-clad form came racing toward him through the trees; Emrys slowly turned on his heel and disappeared into the chaos of the battle._

_"No, no... No." Merlin kept muttering this as he stumbled trough the forest, doing his best to run with both his and Arthur's armor weight slowing him down. The blond's own heaviness was balanced across his shoulders as he carried him far from the fight, far from harm._

_"It's over," Arthur mumbled, barely coherent. "It's over."_

_"No."_

_"A sword that can kill even what is already dead, Merlin. That is what you said to me. A sword which can surpass and break a_ foresteall sylfum dryht. _Am I not correct?"_

_"You are."_

_"Then it's over, Mer-"_

_"Arthur? Arthur, no! Stay with me. Stay awake. Arthur!" Merlin dragged him into a nearby cave and hurriedly set about dressing the wound, but didn't succeed in wakening him._

_-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-_

Arthur's breathing had become erratic and incredibly shallow. All of the anger, the hopelessness, the pain overwhelming him, Merlin walked out of the cave, threw back his head, and began screaming at the sky. 

The very Earth seemed to tremble and fall silent, listening to his agony. In the midst of the battle which still raged a fair distance away, Emrys paused and closed his eyes. He then swiped at his face, confused as his fingers came away wetly. He was crying, but he didn't know or feel why.


	15. Heartbroken

Merlin stumbled through the trees, saltwater stinging his eyes. He didn't know where he was going, and he didn't care. He just had to get away from that cave. However, he kept it within sight; if anything were to happen because he wasn't there he would never forgive himself. He wasn't certain he would anyway. Maybe it was an intervention of fate or maybe it was a coincidence, but he came upon a stretch of lakeshore and he collapsed in the damp sand. The water washed up and over his knees, soaking his legs to the bone in frigid wetness. He didn't look up as a fierce, beating wind sprang up.

"Merlin." Kilgarrah's voice broke through his misery like a shining light. He grasped for it, for the smallest shred of hope. "Merlin, what is wrong?" Merlin looked up into his shining orange eyes, unable to express all he was feeling in words.

"Read my mind," he whispered hoarsely. "Look into my thoughts and see." Kilgarrah blinked, but obliged. After a few moments of tense, charged silence he let out a long sigh and lowered his head to be closer to Merlin's.

"Do not despair, young Dragonlord."

"But I'm not," Merlin pointed out. "Not anymore."

"You are your father's son," Kilgarrah reprimanded. "A Dragonlord's power comes from their soul. Emrys has none. Yet you are a Dragonlord still." Merlin slowly got up from where he was sitting, water pooling around his boots and turning the sand surrounding them into clumping mud. 

"It is true, what they say about the wisdom of dragons," he remarked pointedly. "You always seem to know when I need it. Thank you." The Great Dragon gave a slight dip of his crested head in appreciative respect, smiling proudly at the disheveled young man that stood before him. Merlin's briefly optimistic face suddenly frowned. 

"How did you know where to find me?" He asked.

"I heard your cry," Kilgarrah explained. "My kinship with you lead me here." His voice became grave. "I should point out that Emrys also has this connection with you, on a more primal level. After all, you are one and the same. He will have sensed your distress, and he will come for you."

"Arthur!" Merlin shouted, racing back through the trees. He heard the dragon lift off from the ground and saw him soar above the canopy, following at a fair distance as he searched for space enough to land. Merlin dove into the cave, skidding on loose stones and gravel. He lost his balance and landed hard on his face and hands; a cry of pain precipitated the action. Groaning, he heaved himself onto his knees and winced at the bloody mess his grazed palms had become, feeling at the blood trickling down the side of his face from a gash on his forehead with raw and trembling fingers. 

" 'Ello Merlin." The once-warlock leapt to his feet and spun around on his heel to face the man who had spoken, blood running chill through his veins as time seemed to freeze and hang suspended in that one horrible and defining moment. A couple of radical Ex-Druids were bending down beside Arthur, who was thankfully still alive but unconscious. Merlin had to swallow back the lump of tears forming in his throat when he saw how pale and unresponsive the Pendragon had become within the short time he had been gone. "Nice day, innit?"

"Leave us in peace," Merlin pleaded. "Please. You can see that we are no threat to you." The first Druid shook his head.

"Sorry, not what Emrys told us to do. Y'see, he fancies you're a problem. Dunno why. You're useless wit'out your magic." He then spoke to the man accompanying him. "Grab the king. I'll get the servant."

"No!" Merlin growled, struggling for all he was worth as the Druid dragged him with great difficulty out of the cave. The other man dropped Arthur's limp form on the ground like a worthless bag of old clothing and then nudged his shoulder with a muddied boot. "Leave us be, or you'll regret it!"

"What are you gunna do?" The second man laughed. 

"I may not have my magic, but-"

"Exactly," the first interrupted. "Defenseless." They all swung around as a shout came toward them.

"Merlin!" Gwaine was running for all he was worth with Lancelot and Percival directly behind him, their gazes shifting from their captive friend to their dying king repeatedly as they tried to determine which sight was more urgently relevant. They were unexpectedly ambushed by Aęrhÿr's men as they materialized out of nothingness, and suddenly the tiny group found themselves surrounded.

"We'll wait for Emrys to deal with you," the first Ex-Druid said as he leaned casually against a tree and began playing with the end of his knife.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Merlin winced as Gwaine cleaned the gravel out of his hands and pressed them into the hem of his cape, but otherwise he remained impassively unaware of what was going on around him. His sole focus seemed to be on the sky, and he watched it attentively for any sign of movement. A cracking of twigs made him jerk his head around to see a bound Leon and Elyan leading a procession of other Camelot prisoners and their guards. Aęrhÿr strode triumphantly out of the tree line, and his men parted for him. He paused in front of Merlin and began speaking as if the knights didn't exist. 

"You were a far greater thorn in my side than I had thought possible," he laughed. Merlin glared up at him from where he was crouching beside Arthur. There was a small amount of murmuring as Emrys silently made his way through the crowd to stand on the edge of the inner circle surrounding the main prisoners, watching with mild interest. 

"My loyalty is to my friends and family first," Merlin replied quietly; his gaze was locked on Emrys and Emrys alone. "My people are a close second."

"But you see, they're not your people anymore," Aęrhÿr pointed out with an arrogant smile. "Because you're not Emrys anymore. You're just Merlin."

"That's more than enough," Merlin growled before throwing his head up and shouting in the tongue of the dragons. Chaos ensued as the enemy launched themselves forward to restrain the prisoners, but they suddenly scattered as a burst of flame erupted from the heavens. Kilgarrah arrived in a fury of beating wings and slashing claws, coming to the protection of his friend. The knights grabbed Arthur and escorted him to a relatively safer location and Merlin dove at Aęrhÿr, grabbing him about the waist and tackling him into the dirt. They rolled over and over repeatedly, locked in a vicious bout of fisticuffs. The only one not to make any movement whatsoever was Emrys. He simply watched all that was happening around him, encased in an invisible bubble which deflected fire and sword strikes alike. 

Merlin yelped as Aęrhÿr bit into his arm, losing his grip as the former Druid rolled away and sprang nimbly to his feet. He was covered in cuts with a split lip and puffy right eye, and Merlin clutched at the bite with his raw hands which had begun bleeding again. Aęrhÿr wiped the blood off of his lip and smirked triumphantly at something he saw behind his attacker.

"Too little too late," he remarked before fading into the heaving mass of people as the battle started anew. Merlin swung around, eyes widening in horror when he saw that Arthur's chest had ceased to move as he breathed. He scrambled over the upheaved ground to his friend's side, frantically feeling for a pulse and not finding one. 

"Arthur? Arthur, no. Arthur!" The world around them ceased to exist. It was just Arthur's limp body in his arms, unresponsive to anything he said or did to wake him. "Arthur... I can't live through this. Not again. Please, don't go. Don't leave me alone. Don't- just- don't..." He lowered his dark head against the blond's, their foreheads connecting as tears streamed down his cheeks and wet the base of his neck. "Please."


	16. Husk

Emrys watched his double falling apart with a mild twinge of pity, if it could even be called that. He slowly approached and stopped at a respectful distance, cautiously choosing his next words with great care. He was well aware of what Merlin was capable of in such a precarious emotional state. 

"He made the choice himself," Emrys reasoned slowly. Merlin's entire body stiffened, going rigid and taut with anger as he took small movements in turning to look at his copy. 

"Just shut up," he snapped. "This is your fault. If you hadn't forced him to choose he'd still be here."

"But it was _our_ choice," Emrys said, confused. "Don't you remember? When Aęrhÿr went to destroy us we fought back. But we were tired. Tired of caring, tired of the pain. We were constantly being pulled in two directions. We decided it would be easier if we _were_ two separate people." Merlin went to reply, but the truth of the words hit him and he hung his head in shame. 

"That was a mistake," he whispered hoarsely. Emrys cocked his head, trying to understand the reason behind the statement.

"Logically, it is most effective and principally sound. Isn't it?" 

"Arthur's dead!" Merlin shouted, leaping to his feet and rounding on the sorcerer. "How effective was it in the end!?"

"I don't understand," Emrys admitted. "Why are you angry at us?" 

"Because we let go! We stopped trying, and gave up. And because we gave up, everything is so mutilated we'll be lucky if the God-forsaken _land_ even remains when we're finished!" 

"I have to defend myself," Emrys protested. "That is always how it has been, and how it will be. I assumed incorrectly that you understood that."

"Just raise your voice, or feel betrayed, or _something!"_ Merlin sobbed, sinking into the forest floor and crying. "Just _feel_ something."

"... I can't." 

"... I know." Merlin drew in a shaky breath and trailed his bleeding fingers through the dirt, finding a large rock embedded in the soil. "And this world can survive without our magic, but it can't survive without our soul." He suddenly heaved the rock upward, and Emrys cried out in pain as it struck a glancing blow to his left temple. He adjusted his coat with great precision, breathing heavily from the unexpected rush of adrenaline as he came under attack.

"Very well then. You know what I must do. And I will not hold back," he warned. 

Lancelot dodged a glancing blow from a mercenary and caught a Druid unawares, dodging away from a new foe and ending up with his back against Gwaine's. Percival was on his left side and Leon his right, and they began working in tandem as an invincible unit of unstoppable gladiators as they proceeded through the melee. 

"Where's Elyan?" Percival barked as he sliced a man directly across the chest. 

"I don't know! I thought he was with Lancelot!" Leon exclaimed. 

"Anyone seen Merlin since all this started?" Gwaine asked. "That was pretty incredible, what he did."

"It was," Lancelot agreed. He entered into a duel with a man he recognized as an accomplished warrior from Cenred's old guard, feeling a sense of satisfaction well up within him when he considered just how difficult that kingdom had made things for Camelot. The man fell before him shortly after. 

"The King is dead!" Elyan proclaimed the news to the four corners of the Earth as he came over a hill and joined their knot of flying blades.

"No! Where's Merlin?" When Elyan didn't immediately reply, Leon grabbed him by the collar and shook him slightly. "Elyan, where is he!?" 

"He's fighting Emrys!" They all paused in shock for a few crucial minutes. In that time they were set upon, and they drove the new wave off with a righteous and terrible fury.

" _What!?_ " Lancelot shouted. " _And you let him!?"_

"He was really into it!" Elyan defended himself twice as he parried a blow and backed up his actions. "He's really holding his own. I was actually scared of pulling him out. He might've bitten my head off."

"That doesn't sound like him at all," Lancelot snapped irritably.

"You you're not your usual mild-tempered and mute self," Percival pointed out sourly. "Argue later, fight now."

"Sorry, Perce," Elyan apologized. 

"Don't apologize!" Gwaine exclaimed, exasperated. "You weren't the one who-"

"I swear to God, Gwaine, if you don't shut up-" Lancelot growled.

_"All right, that's enough!"_ Leon commanded. "We're all on edge. We're all tense. Now focus on the battle, and if we survive this you can argue to your heart's content. Do I make myself clear?"

"As crystal," Gwaine muttered as he stabbed someone in the abdomen. He ducked as Percival jabbed a quick punch at another man just above his head. His fist connected loudly with the man's jaw. "Nice one Percy."

"I do my best."

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

_Long shadows were gathering in the council chambers as Guinevere stared out one of the many long windows, her elegant yet incredibly simplistic cream gown whispering over the stone floor whenever she moved._

_"I'm certain they'll be fine, milady." Gaius spoke up quietly from the other end of the room. Guinevere turned to him, eyes dark with worry._

_"I wish I could believe you," she sighed. "But I know that something is wrong." A small, ironic smiled flitted briefly across his face as he came to stand beside her._

_"I wish I could convince myself." Gwen took Gaius' hands in her own and grasped them reassuringly._

_"Even without his magic, Merlin is still one of the most resourceful men I know," she said. He nodded._

_"And I know that Arthur is fully capable of looking after himself."_

_"Maybe."_

_"What troubles you?" Guinevere frowned._

_"Something Arthur said to me, a few days before the battle," she explained. "He spoke of his and Merlin's destiny, how closely bound they are together. And then he, he mentioned something strange. He said it was impossible for a man to destroy himself."_

_"You worry that he will choose to take his own life rather than fight Emrys?" Gaius concluded. She nodded. "It is possible."_

_"And that's what worries me."_


	17. Hope

Arthur stumbled to his feet, confused as he found himself in the Crystal Cave. 

"Where am I?" He called out, perturbed when his voice eerily echoed directly afterward.

"The veil between the two worlds," a soft, silky voice explained quietly from somewhere to his right. He turned toward it, feeling his heart catch in his throat when he saw his mother walking delicately toward him. 

"Why am I here?" He asked. Igraine smiled sadly and stopped a few paces in front of him; Arthur drew in a shaky breath as she gently caressed his cheek with trembling fingers, dropping his head against her hand and inhaling her scent. 

"My beautiful boy," she cried. "You're here because you're dead."

"Wh- can I go back?" 

"You have to. There's still so much you have yet to accomplish."

"Is there a way to defeat Emrys?" Igraine smiled. 

"You have already set that in motion." Arthur regarded her, confused. He jumped as a wraith-like figure appeared out of the mist surrounding them, staring with wide eyes as Balinor dipped his head with the slightest nod of respect as equals. 

"You gave my son purpose," he explained. "And purpose can fuel even the most tamed of courage. The courage needed to stand up against himself and do whatever was necessary to ensure the safety of Albion." 

"Merlin is fighting Emrys?" Arthur asked incredulously. 

"Yes, and he still needs you, Arthur." It was a new voice, a new wraith detaching itself from the mist and forming into an elderly man.

"This is Taliesin," Igraine explained. "He has been waiting for the two of you to complete your destiny for centuries."

"Only then can I find peace," Taliesin commented shortly, closing the distance between himself and Arthur with quick, lengthy strides. He pulled a misshapen stone out of his pocket; it was a murky white like quartz but had a mystical soft white glow about it. "This can reunite Merlin and Emrys as one. But," he cautioned as he placed it into Arthur's hand, "the fusion must be mutual. If one does not want the union to take place, it cannot. For a person cannot live their life at war with themselves."

"I think I understand," Arthur assured him, pocketing the stone with great care. He reluctantly turned back to his mother to say goodbye, opening his mouth to speak but the words seemed to lodge in his throat. 

"I know," Igraine whispered softly. "We will see each other again, when it is your time. I love you, Arthur. I always have. I always will." She began to fade away with Balinor and Taliesin as he felt drawn to the pulsating white lights of the crystals, which seemed to grow brighter and brighter until their luminescence filled his mind and it was all that he could see.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Arthur gasped, clutching at his abdomen as he came back to the world of the living. He winced, shading his eyes as the sun beat down on him mercilessly. He had been left in the middle of a clearing, a battle waging around him; an uncomfortable amount of packing had been placed over his wound. Unwinding it hurriedly he revealed clean and unmarked flesh. Stumbling onto trembling legs he tripped over his feet all the way to the edge of the clearing, heading toward the sound of where the battle had shifted. There was discarded weaponry everywhere, and not being particularly picky he grabbed the first sword he set eyes on. 

"My lord!" Leon choked as the Pendragon came over the edge of a hill and slammed right into him.

"Leon. How goes the battle?"

"But- you-" the knight stuttered.

"Hey! Elyan!" Gwaine shouted. "Looks like you exaggerated. The princess only looks _mostly_ dead!"

"No, I'm positive! He was-" Elyan began to protest, the words dying away on his tongue when he laid eyes on Arthur. "Oh. My bad."

"You'll be wanting this back then," Lancelot said from behind. He handed Excalibur back to its rightful owner and drew his own sword out of its sheath.

"Thanks, Lancelot. Where's Percival?" A tree collapsed nearby them and they leapt out of the line of fire.

"Heads up!" The gentle giant called out.

"A little late on the warning, don't you think?" Arthur sputtered, spitting to get the leaves out of his mouth as he and the others disentangled themselves from the canopy. Percival peered around the trunk from where he was standing with an axe, surprised. 

"Milord??"

"Yeah, Elyan got it wrong," Gwaine joked.

"It wasn't funny the first time Gwaine," Elyan pouted. 

"And Elyan wasn't wrong," Arthur corrected. "I _was_ dead. But like Merlin, I can't die properly until whatever I'm here to do it completed."

"Handy," Leon murmured. He was already shifting his focus back to the battle. Arthur suddenly frowned. 

"Percival, what's the tree for?"

"Battering ram," they all replied at once. Lancelot continued. "The majority of the enemy have fortified themselves in the ruins of an old fortress. Once Merlin called on the Great Dragon for help the tide turned in our favor."

"He did _what!?"_

"I know. We didn't see it coming either."

"Where is he now?" The knights eyed each other as more of their men swarmed the fallen tree and began stripping it of its branches, hacking at them with their swords to streamline it into a proper battering ram. 

"We don't know," Leon admitted.

"Last anybody saw of him, he was fighting Emrys over by the cliff face," Percival offered.

"What, the one with the rapids?" Arthur inquired anxiously. Percy nodded. 

"He's going to get himself killed," the Pendragon muttered.

"He was holding his own," Gwaine defended. "Better than any of us could have done."

"Nobody knows quite how," Elyan added.

"He's Merlin," Lancelot explained vaguely. The group followed the soldiers toward the great oak doors of the fortress, Leon calling out commands from time to time as they went along. "There isn't a part of anything he does that anyone really knows how he does it." Arthur stopped suddenly, and they stopped with him, confused. 

"Leon, can you lead the men?" He asked quietly. 

"Of- of course my lord."

"Good. If we don't take care of Emrys we haven't won anything today. I have to go to Merlin and help him."

"How?" Gwaine asked incredulously. Arthur rifled about in his pockets for a few moments and then pulled out the stone.

"With this. An old sorcerer's spirit gave it to me while I was temporarily dead."

"... okay.." 

"Look, I have no idea how to use it or anything, but I know Merlin will. It's our only chance."

"Then luck be with you sire," Lancelot stated, dipping his head respectfully before walking again to catch up to the men. The other knights followed suit and raced after, but Arthur held Leon for a few moments after.

"Do not approach Aęrhÿr," he warned quietly. "Contain him."

"Of course. And Arthur-" Leon started as the blond went to go the opposite way- "I hope this works."

"You and me both."


	18. Heart

The ground exploded right next to Merlin, and he dropped to the ground as he was showered with dirt and shards of rock cut across his bare skin, slitting it open and turning his clothing ragged with numerous cuts. He rolled right over the edge of the cliff, clinging on in terror as his eyes focused for an instant on the rushing water far below. The blood was pounding so furiously in his ears that it drowned out the roar of the rapids as they coursed heedlessly through wound they had carved into the earth. Crying, he hauled himself back onto the outcropping. His raw hands were bleeding again, and the pain of holding on to the rocky surface was unbearable. Fresh gravel dug into the cuts, making them deeper. The silt lodged in them, irritatingly uncomfortable. Merlin went to get up, but sprawled onto the ground panting with agony as his knee buckled and sent him face-first into the pebbles and dirt. A quick inspection showed a rather larger splinter of rock embedded just below the kneecap, and it was what had caused the leg to fail in supporting his weight. He looked up as the soft tread of muddy, scuffed boots heralded the arrival of Emrys. 

"Why do you persist?" He asked wearily. "We both know how this will end." Emrys was just as worse for wear as Merlin was. A thick matte of blood had clotted in his hair where Merlin had thrown the rock, and there were several cuts of varying depth scattered about his body which had precipitated his decision to remain as far away from his counterpart as possible. The dagger which Merlin had been carrying had been used to great effect. Aside from the obvious wounds was an overlying layer of ash, which dusted his hair and made it look like very dirty snow. Kilgarrah hadn't been lenient. 

"Because I have to," Merlin groaned, grasping the shard of rock. In one quick movement he had extracted it with a cry of pain and aimed it at Emrys' chest. The sorcerer, caught off-guard, managed to dodge at the last moment. Instead of striking his heart it embedded itself deep into his right breast, and he crumpled to the ground to lie there for a few moments, winded. Merlin managed to heave himself to his feet by bracing his knee with his hands; in doing so he felt the fabric of his pants become soaked with red wetness. It began trickling down his leg and painted the ground below him as he limped toward Emrys, drawing the dagger out of his pocket holding it firmly in his right and bleeding hand. The warlock was still trying to get the shard out of his chest. He whipped his head around as Merlin approached, steps heavy and uneven as they crunched over the shale. His eyes burned a bright gold, and Merlin suddenly found himself thrown backwards by an invisible force. He sprawled on the ground, world spinning with shapes and colors shifting about endlessly. Blood was flowing freely from the gash on the back of his head, and he didn't hear Arthur cry out because of the sharp ringing which filled his ears. 

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Arthur saw Merlin go down and felt his stomach lurch with nausea when he saw the blood trails all about the area. Emrys was sprawled a fair distance away from his double, methodically trying to extract a piece of rock from his chest. All efforts subsided when he set eyes on Arthur. 

"You still live," he stated flatly. 

" _Forsteall sylfum dryht_ ," Arthur retorted shortly. "You taught me that."

"Arthur!" It was Merlin, panting heavily as he struggled to get into a sitting position. 

"Hey Merlin." Merlin cocked his head, confused. He then started hitting his left ear repeatedly, gave up, and simply pointed to it. Arthur understood. He couldn't hear him. It wasn't uncommon with a head injury. "Look, Emrys. Merlin can't hear me so I have to appeal to you. Not certain how that's going to work." He pulled out the crystal which Taliesin had given him. Merlin set eyes on it and went berserk. 

"Arthur, no! Don't do it! No!"

"I thought he'd be pleased," Arthur murmured, confused. He kept his eyes fixed on Emrys. "Doesn't he want his magic back?" Emrys slowly hauled himself with great care to his feet, so as not to drive the shard deeper into his chest.

"This is a fusion crystal, Arthur Pendragon. It takes two souls, and binds them together. This can be used to heal a broken mind, or to take over the body of another person."

"I'm not sure I understand."

"Because you do not see. Two consciousnesses cannot exist peacefully together. One must win."

"They battle each other," Arthur summarized, a feeling of apprehension settling over him. "If one wins, the other dies."

"The two bodies remain fused together." Emrys continued on as if the blond hadn't spoken. "The mind of one of the participants is eradicated in favor of the stronger intellect." 

"If Merlin agrees to this, will you?" Arthur questioned, desperation beginning to creep into his tone. "Settle this once and for all, without further bloodshed?" Emrys was silent for a moment before replying.

"Of course. Death is a natural progression of life, but war and conflict are such unnecessary means to that end."

"Then I will speak with him." Arthur slowly backed away, then turned on his heel and walked over to Merlin. The man was repeating the word "no" over and over again, and as Arthur got nearer with the stone the intensity of the repetition increased. 

"Nonononononononononono..."

"Merlin, can you hear me?"

"... sort of. But only in my right ear. My left is still a sharp ringy sort of sound."

"Well then listen up. Emrys has agreed to a battle of wits. Here's the plan. You use the fusion stone, and you fight for dominance mentally. Only one of you can win. And let's face it. In your condition you won't last much longer trying to fight physically."

"I can barely get close enough to land a blow," Merlin admitted sourly as he latched on to Arthur's arm and used it as an anchor point to pull himself back onto his feet. "Fine. Give me the crystal, and stand well back. You don't want to be anywhere near us when this happens." Arthur nodded, and gave him the rock. Merlin managed to limp over to where Emrys was standing under his own steam, and hesitating only a fraction of a second he held out the crystal. Emrys grabbed a hold of it as well, and for a few moments they stood there together without anything happening. 

Suddenly they both cried out in pain, and a blinding white light emanated from the crystal. They were both enveloped in it, and Arthur lost sight of them. He crouched behind the shelter of a large boulder and closed his eyes as a blast of fierce, cold wind nearly flattened him. 

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Merlin found himself in an empty void of swirling grays and whites, his body cured of all injuries. He knew it was only his mental projection of himself, but it felt good not to hurt to breath again for a few moments. Emrys was standing nearby, uninterestedly observing himself with a careful eye to make certain he was at full functioning capacity. It was quite mechanical. 

"Well here we are," he said calmly. "Back where we began."

"Full circle," Merlin agreed warily, taking a few steps away. Emrys noted the movement and canceled it out by taking an equal amount of strides forward. 

"There is nowhere to run in this place," he pointed out. Merlin sighed, and together they closed the gap until they were standing only inches apart from each other. 

"What now? Do we... punch it out? Talk each other to death? A game of riddles, perhaps?" Eerily, Emrys smiled. It was unnerving. "... I thought you were "above" crude emotions."

"I can appreciate a well-crafted diversion, Merlin. It takes sufficient effort to appear harmless with a few simple words when one is as capable of inflicting pain as we are. I applaud the ease with which you do it."

"It's called a sense of humor," Merlin muttered miserably. "You should get yourself one. You're about as boring as one of Sir Geoffrey's history tomes." 

"Indeed? No matter. This is a battle of intellect, and logical deduction will cancel out raw emotion every time."

"That's where you're wrong. It's a battle of wills."


	19. Headache

Percival went crashing through the underbrush, skidding to a halt in the gravel of the cliff's edge and shielding his eyes at the brilliant white light seemingly emanating from nothingness.

"Sire!"

"Over here!" Percival stumbled over to the sound of the voice and slid in behind the boulder next to Arthur, squinting to see well even in the sheltered area. 

"We're experiencing trouble at the fortress. We need you!" 

"What's the problem, specifically?" There was a pause.

"... It's Leon. He's hurt bad. Lancelot's trying to pick up the slack, but... he doesn't have the tactical experience."

"Let's go then."

"Where's Merlin?" Arthur pointed at the white pulsating light. 

"Emrys too."

"That's not good."

"No. lead the way, Percival." The knight nodded, and they raced for the fight. When they reached the fortress the door had been splintered open and they passed through into the corridors. Dead and dying men on both sides littered the hallway, some calling out and others eerily still. The sound of the fighting echoed from up ahead, but Percival ducked down a secondary passage and entered into a vaulted room. 

"Ah! You found him then," Gwaine exclaimed cheerily as they came over. There were men all around them, injured but recieving treatment from some of the Druidic members of the order. Leon was sprawled out on a table with a deep slice just above the knee and looking incredibly exasperated by the inconvenience. "Took you long enough." 

"Knock it off," Elyan snapped as Leon fidgeted, slamming him back into the table. "I can't wrap your wound if you won't keep still." 

"There's a battle to be won," Leon growled bad-temperedly. 

"Leon," Arthur began warningly. The knight quit struggling, but glared rebelliously at anyone who dared to make eye contact nonetheless. "Stay here. I'll take point. That cut is plenty deep, and if you don't look after it you'll never walk the same way again. Understood?"

"... yes sire." 

"Good." He turned to the others. "Elyan, watch him. Everyone who can fight, follow me!" The knights of Camelot surged out of the room after their king, leaving the injured and Druids most skilled in healing to tend to them. With Lancelot on his right, Gwaine on his left, and Percival directly behind with strong force of men following on their heels, Arthur felt confidence welling up within him. The first wave of Aęrhÿr's followers came up against them, and swinging Excalibur into a more secure grip he led the charge.

"On me!"

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Merlin and Emrys were circling each other with slow passes, warily eyeing the movements to find an indicator as to what was being planned. Finally Emrys leapt forward, coming after Merlin with a ferocity that was startling. Merlin dived to avoid the blows, sweeping his legs in a way that kicked his opponent's out from under him. They sprawled together in a heap, locked in a close fury of flying fists and snapping teeth in a primal display of determination to win the brawl. Limbs were lashing out in all directions, uncoordinated in the heat of the excitement. If they actually connected with anything, the only indication was the grunt of pain which accompanied it. 

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Arthur screamed as a bolt of lightning was summoned in through a window and coursed through his body, the pain almost overwhelming. He struck out wildly in the confined space of the hallway and hit something solid, heard a yelp, and swung again for a second connecting blow. The man crumpled to the ground, and Arthur stepped over him to continue down the corridor. He spotted the edge of Aęrhÿr's brightly colored tunic as he swept away from him, and gritting his teeth took off in pursuit.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

"Enough!" Merlin collapsed, a wave of nausea rolling over him as Emrys towered above, dark eyes blazing with golden fire. "I still have command of my magic, even here," the sorcerer warned threateningly as he advanced toward the sickening young copy of himself. He seemed to be emanating plague, and Merlin seemed to be catching it. The Dragonlord suddenly felt his breath catch in his throat, and slowly he looked up from where he was crouching. Emrys froze, then uncertainly began to back away.

"We are fighting for dominance." he spoke softly, his words heavy with authority. Emrys responded to them by flinching. "But at the moment we are one body, two minds locked within a single head. Your body was the stronger, the more powerful. But if we're both fighting for control over it, then that means I can command our magic too." He took long, swift strides toward his assailant, eyes beginning to smolder a burning bronze as he reconnected to his power, the golden undertones becoming more and more prominent with each second.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Aęrhÿr wasn't just skilled in the magical arts. He was also an exceptional tactician of a fighter, and Arthur found it becoming increasingly more difficult to combat both as he and the former Druid danced around each other. Sword blades clashed loudly in the echoing halls, and they heard screams outside as the enemy were attacked by the vengeful Kilgarrah. Arthur jumped over a crafty undercut and managed to elbow his opponent in the ribs, but the sorcerer sent him flying backward. The blond barely managed to avoid tumbling down the stairs as he sought to regain his footing. Aęrhÿr grimaced to see him get back up, shifting his balance to prepare for the next bout.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Merlin was grappling desperately with Emrys, rolling about in the misty void which inhabited the recesses of their mind. He suddenly found himself flipped onto his back with the sorcerer on top of him, a crackling bolt of lightning festering in his hand and his eyes wild with instinctual self-preservation. Merlin winced, closing his eyes and preparing for the end. He opened them again, determined to die strong. Emrys met his steady gaze, and the feral madness within his own dissipated to be replaced by hesitation. 

"Go on then," Merlin said quietly. "Just get it over with. Personally, I lever liked the idea of a drawn-out death." 

"I- I can't," Emrys rasped. "If I destroy you... I destroy myself. I can't do that." He paused thoughtfully. "You were willing to live without your magic for the remainder of your life by killing me. Why would you do that?"

"Because the safety of my friends and family, as well as the security of Albion, are far more important than my own welfare."

"Arthur," the sorcerer sighed knowingly. "You did it for Arthur."

"Yes," Merlin admitted with the faintest of smiles. "He is my brother. If not in blood, then by bonds more powerful than family ties."

"Destiny."

"Friendship."

"I do not understand."

"And that is why you will always lose." Emrys hesitated a few more moments, the lightning crackling loudly as it sparked in his fingers. Finally he stood, getting off of Merlin and allowing him to stand. The bolt of energy died out. 

"I think that our magic will be much safer in your hands than mine," he said after a long pause, extending his hand in surrender. "Can we make peace?"

"They only said one had to win," Merlin realized suddenly. "Not that one had to die and one had to live."

"Exactly."

"... I accept your surrender," Merlin said quietly, taking Emrys' hand in friendship. They turned as one toward a pulsing white light, walking with intertwining fingers toward it.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Merlin gasped in a huge intake of air, checking his surroundings to find that he was exactly where he had last been. He stumbled onto shaky legs, pulled the sharp rock out of his chest with a small cry of pain, and stared at his dark, stormy attire with a grimace. 

"I've been hiding in the shadows for too long," he muttered. He could feel his magic stirring restlessly within him, eager to be used now that its rightful master was in control again. Merlin lifted his face to the sky and sighed, eyes flashing a bright gold as he closed them. A rolling thunder suddenly shook the clear firmament, and clouds gathered from the far horizons. Swiftly, it began to rain a cool and light shower. He felt all of the blood and dirt wash off of his body, the cuts and wounds healing in the water as if they had never been administered. The droplets seemed to wash the dark color right out of the fabric of his clothing, changing the dye into bright blues, rich browns, and crimson reds. Merlin stood in the downpour, arms outspread toward heaven, and finally opened his eyes to smile down at his apparel- a far more courtly and fancier rendition of what he had worn as a manservant- and knew that he was himself again. 

The tufty black head slicked to a shimmering ebony in the rain turned sharply in the direction of the battle, magically heightened senses picking up the rapid heartbeats and ragged breathing even from the distance he was separated from it by. 

"Aęrhÿr," he whispered softly, sadly. He then took off for the fight on winged feet, reaching a pace which would have winded and outdistanced any prize stallion. "Hang in there, Arthur. I'm coming."


	20. Harmony

Arthur and Aęrhÿr were in the middle of an intense duel when the thunder boomed in the distance, shaking the foundations of the old fortress and causing one of the walls to collapse next to them. They paused. 

"Emrys," Aęrhÿr stated with an arrogant tilt to the head and triumphant chuckle as he turned to look at his opponent. 

"Don't bet on it," the Pendragon growled before leaping at him. They went tumbling through a weakened wall, falling into the larger courtyard where the battle had inevitably shifted. The hallways were now eerily silent aside from the echoes of the wounded and the clash of metal on metal. Arthur and Aęrhÿr soon became separated in the fray, and yelling a short expletive at the bad luck Camelot's king sought out new rivals to challenge. He knew that the former Druid was playing with him, and that he would soon be back. 

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Merlin came streaking into the crumbling fortress, leaping clear over the heads of the stragglers still fighting in the entrance courtyard. They stopped in their endeavors as the backdraft created in Merlin's wake dragged them toward the splintered oaken doors.

"What was that!?" The young warlock went flying down the corridors, executing sharp turns at such velocity that he had to push off of the walls to avoid slamming into them as he ran. He could hear familiar voices in an adjoining room, and skidded to a whirlwind of a halt in the center of what had become Camelot's infirmary for medical attention. Leon, who had been lying impatiently on a table, had been raising himself into a sitting position and arguing with Elyan when he had arrived. The knight promptly continued moving due to shock and fell onto his fellow warrior; they both went tumbling to the ground.

"Very elegant," Merlin laughed as he grabbed both of their arms and jerked his own backwards. They were instantly pulled to their feet in one swift movement, pupils dilating to dominate over much of the surface of their irises as they stared at him. The sorcerer eyed Leon's bad knee. "Bad luck. Let me fix it." He bent down and placed his hand over the large gash, eyes flashing a bright gold as he concentrated. He straightened back up. "Try flexing it." Leon did so, finding that all injury had been healed. 

"You've got your magic back!" Elyan exclaimed, both mystified and ecstatic at the same time. 

"We'd better rejoin the fight," Leon added, grasping Merlin's shoulder with appreciative affection. "And thank you." Elyan suddenly frowned.

"Where did you learn that trick?" He asked.

"What trick?"

"Healing someone without a spell."

"Oh. I don't know, really. I just... sort of did it." His gaze shifted abruptly toward the direction of the courtyard. "We'd better help. Go on ahead. I'll get these men fixed up first." He stood by himself for a few moments in the center of the room after anyone able to fight had left, alone with his patients. "Right then. Time to do what I'm meant to do..." 

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Arthur swung around to avoid a blow to the head and bumped into Leon.

"What are you _doing!?"_ He exclaimed. "Your-"

"My knee's fine," Leon assured breezily, his spotless and elegant footwork bringing the point home. 

"But how-"

"Reinforcements!" Someone shouted; a Camelot knight. "Reinforcements are here!" Arthur stood in the center of the battle, jaw dropping open as the injured which he had previously seen at death's door came streaming into the courtyard. A familiar figure clad in deep blues and browns with a splash of bright red flitted lightly through the chaos of the crowd, and Aęrhÿr's arrogant smirk dropped as a well-aimed punch shattered his jaw. He went sprawling as Arthur raced over.

"It's the simple things in life," Merlin sighed as he rubbed his knuckles. 

"Nice cross," the blond murmured, impressed. "Seems you actually _did_ get something out of those training exercises I made you participate in." 

"Just what I wanted to. So... what exactly should we do with our friend here?"

"He split you in half. He's all yours."

"I was thinking of the emotional damage he caused you."

"But then again it _was_ his fault that I ended up stabbing myself in the stomach."

"Of course, I was the one who almost had his soul destroyed."

"Naturally. Therefore the honor is yours."

"Yes, but you were the one who died."

"This time."

"So the honor defaults to you." 

"Let's call a compromise."

"Meaning?"

"How about we split?"

"Who gets what?"

"I say... I get to torment him on the way to Camelot and you get to choose what method of execution he gets for his crimes."

"Fair enough." Aęrhÿr groaned as they each grabbed him, one under each arm, and dragged him away from the battle. It was pretty much over anyway, just a little bit of mopping up. Arthur paused as silver ropes tied themselves firmly about their captive, shimmering each time he struggled. The blond glanced over at his ebony-haired friend and saw the golden glow fading from his eyes.

"Are you feeling all right?" He asked. Merlin looked at him, surprised as he adjusted his grip and gave a true, quirky Merlin smile. 

"Yes, of course. Why do you ask?" Arthur chuckled a quiet, mirthful laugh. 

"Well, it's just that most of your more complex spells, especially that rope trick you just pulled, usually require a bit of wordsmithing." He gave the warlock a long, considering glance. "You did that just by thinking it."

"Ah, but what are words but a verbal expression of our thoughts?" 

"Gaius?"

"Gaius. Isn't it always?"

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Aęrhÿr was gazing defiantly at the wall of his cell when Merlin opened the door with the merest of thoughts and closed it without the faintest of a whisper. Arthur watched from where he leaned against the bars, smiling slightly. If he had to pick one word to describe his friend in that moment, it would be "radiant." The young man's pale skin seemed to glow in the setting golden rays of sunset, giving him an ethereal quality that was at once comforting yet disconcerting. Aęrhÿr glared at him, wincing slightly as his split lip opened up again. He felt at it with trembling, swollen fingers. Arthur had kept his word about causing the prisoner all sorts of torment on the way back to Camelot, allowing a few of the knights to join in as well. He'd fallen down five dells, been nearly trampled by a horse, and had been tied in his ropes the entire time. Under the circumstances, most still felt he hadn't suffered enough. Their king did not share this view. So he watched Merlin walk into the cell, still entirely in the dark as to what the ex-Druid's punishment was to be.

"All this started because you felt you were superior to your fellow men," the warlock stated softly. 

"It's because we are," Aęrhÿr replied unapologetically. "We were born superior. So why not take our rightful place as the masters of lesser men?"

"Because that's not the way it works." Merlin crouched down to be at eye level with him. "We are of a dying breed, you and I. And these lesser men, as you call them, will one day go on to great accomplishments." He closed his eyes, and they were blazing with light. What was different about this was that it wasn't the usual gold, but a nearly blinding white. Aęrhÿr started, shifting back as far as he could go. "I know that they will build great things, and that they will walk among the very stars themselves." The brightness faded back into the dark blue. "And in this future I see no room for our kind. We must find peace, while we are here. And possibly there will be legends of our people. Stories will be told. We will set a legacy as old as the Earth itself. In that way we will always live on in the hearts of men."

"That is your future! Not mine!"

"You see these people as... creatures, animals to bend to your will," Merlin continued, voice growing ever softer and, to Arthur's perceptive ears, sadder. "It is for that reason that you will be one of them."

"Merlin?" The Pendragon said questioningly. The warlock gave him a reassuring smile. Aęrhÿr scoffed. 

"What, remove my magic? You truly are mad. It's impossible."

"Once." The silence that followed that singular word was deafening. "But in a way, I should thank you. By separating me from my magic you forced me to connect with it on a much more profound level. Where before I was fighting with it, trying to keep a balance, I am at peace. I am entirely at one with my abilities, and have full command over them. I derive my power from the very fabric of the world. And what the world gives, it can also take." He reached forward and gently placed his hands on either side of Aęrhÿr's face, drawing the vehemently protesting sorcerer close until their foreheads were touching. Merlin's eyes lit up in that terrifying white again, and there was a brief flash in Aęrhÿr's that quickly vanished. Merlin let go, rising gracefully to a standing position as the prisoner curled himself into a whimpering ball and snuggled into a far corner of the cell. He turned to Arthur and then let himself out.

"That was... really something," Arthur said quietly as they ascended the steps that would take them out of the dungeons. Merlin gave the slightest of sighs. 

"I scare you," he stated without turning to look at his king. "I should. I used to scare myself. But this is me, Arthur. Who I am, who I will be... and who I was always meant to be."

"Emrys."

"I prefer Merlin, myself." Arthur shook his head with no small degree of bemused exasperation as they entered into one of the large halls. 

"You've always scared me, Merlin. At first I was scared that you'd see past my brash exterior and realize that I was just an insecure child desperately wanting his father's approval. Then I was afraid you wouldn't understand my feelings for Guinevere, and lastly I was afraid of what you would say about my more temperate feelings toward magic, what you might mention to my father in passing." He took a deep breath. "But you were just a kid too, wanting to be valued as you were. You were entirely supportive of my advances toward my love to a fault, and said nothing at all about my views on the Old Religion. When I found out you yourself had magic, I was terrified. I didn't know of what you had done to keep our kingdom safe. But... once I knew, it was as if a curtain had been pulled back and I could see the sunlight. Everything suddenly made sense. So, yes. I am afraid, Merlin. But you've never given me cause to fear you."

"Thank you." Merlin smiled, eyes glistening like fallen stars. "That means... that means quite a lot."

" 'Ey, Merlin!" Gwaine barked; he and the rest of the knights had paused in the center of the courtyard. "Gaius wants you. He's out at the market."

"Then I'd better be going, then!" Arthur walked up to them to ask a simple question and found himself tackled, yelling in surprise as he was wrestled to the ground. 

"Ah!" Merlin paused on his way, laughing. The Pendragon finally succeeded in escaping his attackers, panting with effort as they chased him down the open-air corridors. Apparently, nowhere was safe. Nothing was sacred. He ended up running into Guinevere in one of the passages, standing a little behind her so that she was in between him and them as she told them all off for acting like children. 

Merlin was perched on the edge of the balcony overlooking the courtyard when Arthur walked up to him. Long shadows were lengthening in the twilight, casting deep contrast with the golden-red tinge that fell over everything in the setting light. 

"Last time Inwas up here, I wa overseeing an execution," the blond sighed. 

"Mm. I like coming up here to think. I can see part of the lower town over the top of the parapets."

"The whole world at your feet."

"Being so closely connected to it as I am, I doubt you can fully appreciate just how accurate that comment was." 

"I think I've got a pretty good idea," Arthur retorted with a smile as he leaned against the stone railing and let the soft breeze stir his hair. His gaze suddenly riveted on a particular individual walking into the city. "Hey, Merlin. Look."

"Hmm?" Merlin stared for a long while before turning to give his king an exasperated look. "Come on."

"At least go and talk to her?" Arthur begged. It was more of a prod than an actual form of abased pleading. "You might find that you hit it off."

"What would I say?"

"Oh, I don't know. Start with something simple, like your name?"

"But then that sounds like I'm trying to come off as entitled," he complained, looking back down at the girl. "Oh no..." 

"What?"

"She's looking this way." Arthur followed his gaze and waved, cupping his hands around his mouth. 

"My friend thinks you're quite lovely!"

"Arthur!" Merlin yelped, cheeks flushing a rather vibrant shade of red as the girl started laughing, as indicated by her shaking shoulders. He abruptly turned and fled the balcony with the blond chasing after him. "Why would you do that?" Arthur draped his arm casually over his shoulders.

"It's still my job to torment you, you know. I've claimed it for all eternity." They were interrupted by Lancelot running down the hallway behind them.

"Run!" They peered over his shoulder as he flew past and immediately took off on his heels as they were pursued by a rather angry version of Gwaine with much shorter and- easily noticed- unevenly cut hair. 

"You're going to pay for that, Lancelot!" Servants dodged out of the way as they passed, and in a rare moment of traditional Merlin fashion the warlock tripped over a basket and went sprawling on the ground. Arthur tripped over _him_ , and they ended up being hurdled by an enraged Gwaine as Lancelot made his getaway. The two groaned and complained as they rolled onto their stomachs and made to get up, but their eyes met and they fell back onto their elbows, laughing. 

"If the members of the council could see us right now..." Arthur chuckled.

"... They wouldn't let either of us near a seat of authority for the rest of our days," Merlin finished with a wheeze. Gains came around the corner and paused, taken aback by the sight. He smiled as king and warlock collapsed onto their sides in a fit of laughter, dirty laundry from the upturned basket surrounding them and only adding to the chaos as servants and nobles alike tried to navigate the corridor.

"All as it should be," he murmured with a knowing grin as he continued down the hall.


	21. Epilogue

A messy head of dark hair and pale skin flirted with shadows as it bobbed through the trees, the wind rushing through the ebony locks as the young girl ran from her attackers. Sharp purple eyes flickered anxiously back and forth as she searched for something in particular, smirking when she found it. The boy with the tanned skin and dark, curly hair locked a pair of scared blue eyes on her form as she headed toward the distant parapets of Camelot's Citadel. They were almost home. 

"Aldryss!" He cried. "Don't leave me!" Aldryss skidded to a halt and stretched out her hand. The boy made a flying leap and narrowly cleared a ditch, catching her arm and usingit to find his balance.

"Relax, Reyan. I've got this handled." Her eyes flashed a bright gold, and a tangle of ivy suddenly sprang up to snare their legs. As they collapsed in a fit of frightened squeals she drew her arm confidently about the younger boy and they walked casually back into Camelot's lower town. 

"Now where have you two been?" They froze, wincing. Busted. 

"Hi, Uncle Percy." Aldryss turned toward him with her best smile. The towering knight stared down at the two miscreants, eyeing them reproachfully. Finally he sighed.

"Come on. Your fathers will want to have a word with you." 

"No..." Reyan and Aldryss were ushered into the council chambers by their doting protector, who closed the door softly behind him and cleared his throat with a graceful rumble. Arthur looked up from the parchment he had been reading and sighed, nudging Merlin with a well-aimed elbow.

"What- oh." They both reluctantly stood up from the table and shifted from foot to foot, side by side.

"Thank you, Percival. Sorry to have troubled you."

"It's never a problem," the knight said warmly as he walked out.

"What was it this time?" Arthur asked sternly. "Out exploring in the forest?" The two children meekly nodded.

"We got chased by rogues!" Reyan exclaimed excitedly, looking confused when Aldryss groaned. "What?"

"I'm going to wait for your mother to arrive," Arthur muttered, lowering his head into his hand. 

"That goes the same for you," Merlin remarked quietly to his daughter. She stared back at him with her mother's defiant lavender gaze. 

"What's the big deal?" Gwaine asked as he leaned back in his chair at the table and yawned. Lancelot, who was seated beside him, shook his head in exasperation. "Let 'em explore, I say." 

"Where are they?" Guinevere growled as she came stalking in with Aeris- Merlin's wife- directly on her heels. Reyan squeaked and scurried to hide behind his father's legs, but his elder sister-figure stomped up to her mother and stared up at her unapologetically. A heated argument ensued, which ended with the young girl confined to her chambers for a lengthy period of time. Reyan's punishment was that he was required to take a bath on a day when he usually didn't have to. Elyan chased him halfway across the castle before catching him. 

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

When balance had been restored to the world Arthur sighed, lounging into his chair and leaning tiredly against the backing of it. Merlin leaned on it as well, draping his arms over the top and tickling the top of his friend's golden hair in the hopes that it would irritate him. He succeeded. 

"Can you stop that?" He barked irritably. His mission a success, Merlin smirked and sat on the edge of the table next to him. They both still were quite fit and youthful in appearance, although the faintest of gleaming and elegant silver streaks were beginning to shimmer in Merlin's dark obsidian temples. Arthur, whose fair locks hid it better, seemed only to have a slight lightening of shade in the area just above his ears. 

"They're a handful," the warlock murmured. The king nodded agreement. "Although I imagine no more so than we were at that age." That made Arthur laugh.

"Especially when I grew up with Morgana," he reminded. "It's as if two times have merged into one." 

"They're like Will and I were," Merlin admitted with a sheepish grin. "He was always getting me out of trouble, and I only got into it because I couldn't control my blasted magic." They both began chuckling, and it was as if no time had passed since the days when they had first been acquainted. 

There were some friendships, though few in number, that were ageless in the grand play of life. Theirs was one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! I hope you enjoyed my sequel to The Time of the Changeling, which was a fan-requested project that I originally had no intention of writing. Yeah. That's right. You guys are awfully persuasive.
> 
> Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that I really loved writing this story and that I consider it to be one of my better ones, so thank you for having me write it as I could really see myself progressing as a writer as I did it. 
> 
> Thank you, one and all, and until we meet again adieu adieu and goodnight *bows*. 

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: ALL RIGHTS GO TO THE BBC AND THE MERLIN TV SERIES RESPECTIVELY.


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